Mossflower's Next Hero
by Ala Cye
Summary: As the heroes of Mossflower join together in a contest, we will begin to see who should truly be the hero of heroes! Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

This is my first fanfiction so I don't know how well I'll be able to keep this interesting at all. I probably won't be able to update every so often due to school etc. I have a really strong interest in humor fanfiction so I will be working on trying to write my own. As for the disclaimer, Brian Jacques owns the characters, all of them except for Ala Cye, which is me, AKA Alai.

Mossflower's Next Hero

A white vixen with clear blue eyes walked on to a lighted stage, and behind a rather elegant desk. The lights shone down brightly from above, as the platform was lit with an astounding brilliance. The fox coughed a few times, and then picked up a microphone.

"H'attenshun ye beasts. As ye might know, Ah'm Alai. Ah've baen reading many books of that there Brian Jacques, and Ah've found it the time that we aught tae talk to those beasts. H'applyin' for this contest 'ere, are the 'alf score beasts we've been waitin' for. Sister May?"

The little mouse hopped daintily on to the stage. Her eyes twinkled merrily as she bowed, her pale green habit brushing the floor. She waved to the audience, and sat down in the first of the ten chairs provided. She swung her footpaws back and forth, looking at the next person to arrive. A healthy applause along with some laughter greeted her arrival.

"Miz Tiria?"

A seemingly royal otter calmly strode onstage, wearing a shining silver breastplate imbedded with the golden figure of a star. She nodded at Sister May, and sat down. To many she appeared calm and reserved, but inside her she felt the same as Sister May, her heart as light as a Dibbun's as she received a hearty applause from the otters of Green Isle.

"Lady Ambe'?"

An elderly squirrel proceeded forward with a natural stance befitting an experienced warrior. Unlike the other two, she seemed to walk with hesitance and caution as she spotted Alai sitting behind the wonderfully carved desk. The lady eyed her wearily as she sat down.

"Dotti?"

A hare bounded up and daintily bounced to her own seat. She waved to Bobweave and Southpaw, who sat with dreamy eyes as they stared at their beloved. Alai nearly puked at this as Dotti began to sing. Quite a few beasts rolled their eyes as they clapped, watching her inhale for a song.

"I must wash my paws everyday

Because I'll get sick right away

My mater told me tha…"

Pointing a stout lumbering badger in her way, Alai screamed over her singing.

"SHUT UP!!!"

Unable to hear Alai, Dotti carried right on, until the huge paw of a badger muffled her entire head, dousing her spirit and song.

"As ye know, she bae nae great singer, anyway." Bobweave and Southpaw leaped up with indignation, but they were ignored as Alai carried on. "Martin?"

A well built mouse walked on to the stage with a straight posture and a beautifully forged sword strapped to his back. As he walked to his seat, a rousing cheer arose for him, as he sat down in a ceremonial like manner. A pretty young mouse waved to him, and he stared at her, shocked for a moment.

"Rose! Where have you been? I thought you…you…you passed away. I missed you so mu…"

The badger pulled him into the seat, as Alai commented on Martin's outburst.

"Reunions bae for late', mouse. Well done, Frost." The badger nodded in acknowledgement as Alai carried on.

"Blaggut!"

A ragged looking searat in a finely tailored carpenter's suit walked up in a silly, but proud way. He glanced to and fro, and sat down with a smile as true as his heart pasted on his face. Knowing winks and smiles passed through the audience. A kind applause rang out as his acknowledgement.

"Romsca!"

Another corsair appeared, this time as a ferret, dressed in rags that contrasted with the other's clothing. She cast a kind glance to Abbot Durral in the crowd, who smiled back, along with Sister Viola. A surly glance from Lask Frildur resulted in some bruises from Martin II who had faithfully obeyed his Abbot. A respectable cheer rang out for her. Emphasized greatly by her crew and quite some other Redwallers.

"Gingivere!"

A kind faced wildcat calmly strode onstage with a tired looking face as he watched Tsarmina frown in disapproval and snarl. His glossy fur glinted off the bright stage lights, and he sat down amid a polite round of applause.

"Young Dinny!"

A slightly dirtied mole trundled onstage with a simple tunic adorning his homely figure. He waddled with a stature that spoke wisdom and kindness, as well as love for the simple things. A cheer rose among laughs and applause for the well known Foremole.

"An' las' but nae least, Grath Trueflight!"

A healthy looking otter with a bow in her hand and a quiver on her back seated herself comfortably in the final seat as Alai continued speaking.

"We bae taking this hero contest to my partner, Cyren! How are ye?"

"I'm fine, thank you. We are going to take you to the contest of the heroes, the beasts who were warriors in their own way. We start off with the fighting section. As we know, here, Lady Amber, Tiria, Dotti, Martin, and Grath excelled strongly at this. However, we never know what the other heroes can possess. In the fighting section, we carry on first with the paw-to-paw combat first! Please wait a moment as we prepare."

"I'm really nervous… I've never really been in a fight before. I mean, I've been able to protect myself, and I was able to the entire time poor Matti and his father were gone…" Sister May shivered at the memory of the evil time Ironbeak had nearly conquered Redwall as she paced the waiting room.

"Nonsense, wot! I've been in a jolly old skirmish for the paws before, here, doncha know, front, back, jump lightly on the paws, wot! I'll give you a free boxing lesson, wot wot?" With that Dotti threw a casual uppercut a hairsbreadth away from May's head.

"Dotti, be reasonable. She's never been used to warfare and death, as we have been. Even you haven't really faced any serious times with vermin or the such," reasoned Grath.

"That's certainly right Dotti. Some beasts like myself are trained for this thing. Maybe beasts think I'm heroic at Redwall, maybe some think I was a warrior, brave and sensible. But whenever I fought I was always in shame at the ugly prospect of giving others death." Martin sat down on one of the stools lined up on one side of the wall.

"Wot! No reason to jolly well rub it in!"

"They aren't Dotti. They're just saying not to take such advantage of this part of the hero's test. I don't know why I'm really here myself. That Bella must have filled out the form while I wasn't looking. I'm not a warrior myself, but I can fight. It's the same with May. She's maybe not a fighter, but she can pull through this part." Gingivere sighed as Dotti bounded over to a corner to sulk.

"'ey Dotters? Would yew do a favor fer me? I really want tew learn 'ow to box. Cap'n Slipp nev'r taught us nothin'. I kin keep meself alive in a skirmish wid the rest of ther crew, but I need some practice wid these two meat bags. Never been a real fighter, yew see," commented Blaggut as he threw some wobbly punches into the air.

"Coul' I join yew too? Ol' Cap'n Conva were a true seabeast, but that stoopid ol' Mad Eyes had to go kill 'im for being too smart. Even so, af'er I got promoted I've always had to rely on this here chopper of mine. Nev'r been a one for paw-ter-paw combat." Romsca walked over to the pair of preparers (No pun intended) and started to copy Dotti's practice movements as she briefly nodded through a low punch.

Dinny scrambled around, rolling on the ground and throwing random kicks and punches at various targets in the practicing room. He had a fierce headlock on a slimmer punching bag. His grunting and "gurr"ing provided a great amusement to Sister May as she practiced a newfound power in her kick.

Lady Amber and Tiria conversed, not too worried about the coming competition. They talked about strategies to defeat a beast with punches kicks, and the like.

A bell rang, disturbing the competitors' talk. They quieted down their noise and awaited the name of the first competitor nervously. A tall shrew walked in as announcer and said in a clear voice:

"Ladeez and gennelbeasts, the first competitor of you lot will be…" Here the shrew paused for effect, "May of Redwall!"

The nervous sister walked out of the room amid advice called from Martin and Grath as she left.

What's going to happen next? Wait for the next chapter, but please bide your time. I'm no fast typer, but I'll try to get the next chapter updated as soon as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

"Trade for your fresh fish 'ere, only worth a pouch of fresh 'otroot! Pike, carp, graylin', shrimp…" A healthy looking young otter trailed off as a snow fox appeared from nowhere shouting at him.

"Ah though ye said shrimp were nae fish! Ye braw hided lump of a riverdog, ye really think we need 'otroot more than we 'ave? Anyway, we do sell fish h'and shrimp at this 'ere 'ousey, and we'd bae willing tae trade it for h'a flask o' damson wine, along with some vittles." The vixen appeared quite calm for her advertising show.

"Aye, yer right there, mate. We'd h'appreciate h'a good ole sup of the wine, and of course some 'otroot…" Here the vixen broke in his sentence again with her high northland accent.

"Anyway, ye ken bide yer time fer yer othe' things, juss come 'ere to the Mossflow'r River ye nae doubt know well. We bae livin' by the ford, so feel absaelootly frae to come 'ere anytime fer yer fresh fish. Ah bae Ala, and this young snip 'ere bae Mulstee. If ye dare come 'ere to 'arm us, we will nae be peaceful fisherbeasts anymore…"Ala trailed off, grinning slyly as she twirled her throwing knife, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

The show abruptly stopped, and Ala and Cyren appeared back from their rest. The white vixen sat at her place behind the desk, as Cyren strode on the portable boxing ring that had been moved in. Ala continued talking as Sister May and a group of young evil-looking vermin strode onto the stage.

"An' tha' bae our commercial! Nae much, but wha' Ah said abou' me business bae true. The fishery bae up by the Mossflow'r ford. But 'ere be's where tha' will end, h'as the fighting competishun shall take place right 'ere! These bae our competitors, Siste' May, and the rats of Groffgut's gang in 'igh Roolayne. Cyren?" The big owl strode off the portable boxing ring, and began speaking into the microphone tied on a string like the pendant of a necklace.

"Yes, onto the stage now, no slacking. Sister May, Groffgut, are you ready?" A brief nod from the two competitors was enough for the owl.

"Take your positions. Now, ready, set, FIGHT!!!"

The sister noticed that the ring had the likeness of a place in the orchard she liked to visit, by a pear tree she usually would choose as the place for a picnic. But she forgot that as she realized that she was outnumbered, even though it was just by some young river rats. She backed up against the odd pole sticking up from the middle of the ring, resembling a tree she could defend herself from. Groffgut swirled his tail that had been regrown for his part in the fanfiction. He pawed the place his sword would have been, and all of a sudden charged the Sister. She ducked his straightforward punch, and squatted down, kicking out at his shins with the flat of her foot paw. The sour-tempered rat, snarled at this, and backed off, launching Frogeye at her. The rat stumbled, and May bit his arm fiercely, and kicked out at his stomach. May desperately kicked him off the ring as he lay half stunned. She then turned around and purely through instinct, dodged a savage punch from Groffgut. The momentum of it brought him stumbling past the Sister, and he crashed straight on with the wired fence. She dealt the rat a healthy kick to the bottom, and then scurried back to the likeness of the tree. In her hurry, she tripped on her shortened smock, and stumbled over. Plugtail did not waste this chance, and pounced on her dealing a wobbly punch to her face. May retaliated with the pain and kicked out hard out the figure. She leapt up and backed up against the "tree-pole" and called out in a mother-like voice.

"Oh bother! You young ones are barely older than Dibbuns! Even young Rollo was less naughty than you."

"Shtoopid mouse! Yew see me gang be the last thing yew will ev'r see, mouse. Get 'er!"

Groffgut's gang stumbled forward neither beast wanting to be the first to confront the lady mouse. There was quite a deal of hanging back, until Groffgut in his tantrum stamped up, spittle flying from his face as he confronted Sister May as he roared and screamed. In her disgust, Sister May dealt the slobbering rat in front of her swinging punch from the left paw followed by a kick with the right footpaw. Cheering drowned the sounds of fright of the remaining members of the gang as the scurried off the portable boxing ring and offstage. May smiled prettily as she flounced off the ring, bowed, and bounced to the practice room to tell the others of her victory as applause and hoots of laughter rang out.

There, Lady Amber, Dotti, Martin, Blaggut, Romsca, Gingivere, Young Dinny, and Grath were waving as the shrew lead Tiria to the ring. She smiled confidently as she greeted Sister May on her way to the ring.

The boxing ring had been changed by magical fanfiction powers into a ring that included obstacles as a 5 feet deep glass tank that pike were clearly visible in, as well as stumps of trees showing their tops right above the surface of the water. Tiria, was shaken. Sister May definitely couldn't have fought here! Why her? She was disrupted from her thought as Cyren proceeded to prepare for the match.

"Here you see a five foot deep tank with two pike living in it. The High Rhulain, Tiria will be fighting here with Marshgreen of the book Mossflower. As you see, even though the only platforms to stand on are the tree trunks, Tiria has an advantage, as pike tend to prefer toad over otter. But if she falls, she will be eaten, as Marshgreen would be, but luckily fanfiction has provided the timestop machine, so we will have the time to rescue Tiria. I personally don't care about Marshgreen though. He's ugly. Anyway, h'are you ready? Get ready, get set, FIGHT!

The owl flew off to perch on one of the ceiling beams above the ring. Marshgreen clumsily hopped from one stump to another, cautiously avoiding the dark figures that swam in the murkyish water. Tiria noticed that as he did this, he purposefully was trying to corner Tiria in a corner of the ring-tank. She realized this, and began carefully scampering to a trunk close to the middle of the ring. The agile otter waited there, and almost when Marshgreen was about to push her into the water, she jumped to another trunk, as he plopped into the water, carried on by momentum. Then, time froze, and all of a sudden she seemed to be stuck in a picture. 10 seconds later, things were back to normal, as Cyren groaned as he picked a claw, dirtied with muck from Marshgreen's lumpy skin. The Toad King himself was brushing imaginary water droplets as he shivered about how close he had been to being eaten. Cyren announced into his microphone almost in a relieved way.

"And our winner is… Tiria Wildlough, High Rhulain of Green Isle!" A polite applause greeted her short and easy victory, as the audience watched, not quite impressed by the simple way she had defeated Marshgreen.

As she walked away, she mentally wondered just how easy winning that had been. But then, she reviewed that if she had lost her concentration, she would have fallen off a stump, and lost, or, she would have been cornered by Marshgreen, and he would just need a push to send her into the water. She was roused from her thoughts as she walked, as the shrew led a grim faced squirrel through the long hallway. Lady Amber looked quite nervous, being used to mostly archery, instead of paw-to-paw combat. Tiria finally arrived at the practice room, and found Sister May talking about her ring match. Tiria listened, and joined in the conversers, and talked about how her ring had been totally different from May's ring.

Lady Amber witnessed a boxing ring, again, magickified by fanfiction. It resembled the high treetops of Mossflower. It looked as if the tops of the trees in Mossflower had been cut off and brought here. As she nimbly scramble up the top of one tree with the natural agility of a squirrel, and spotted a vine covered young rat coming. She immediately recognized it as a Painted One, and quickly found herself a hiding place amidst the summer foliage. She could clearly hear Cyren's voice as he talked to the audience.

"Here we have two more competitors, Lady Amber, and a Painted One. The Painted Ones were too bothersome, so we just randomly trapped this little guy from the Long Patrol. So, I called him Kachee, because that's all he says. Wild savage. Also, since both of these competitors are expert camouflagers, you'll need those glasses we provided you. They should be on the right arm of your chair. Anyway, competitors, are you ready? Get set…FIGHT!!!"

Lady Amber lay concealed, as she waited to spot the Painted One. The young rat had of like mind, and though Lady Amber didn't know it, the young rat was right behind her. He slowly crept forward noiselessly, and was about to pounce on the unsuspecting squirrel, when a dead leaf all of a sudden cracked, and gave his position away. Amber whirled around, slamming a paw into Kachee's face. He shot a paw up to his mouth, and then spat out a bloodied tooth. Snarling fiercely at Lady Amber, he all of a sudden bolted into the trees, and whirled the still foliage around until it was impossible to tell where he was. The squirrel dropped to the floor, in one corner by a tree, and watched Kachee shoot from perch to perch in the treetops. Running her paws through the fallen leaves, she found what she had been looking for. Picking up the hefty nut, she aimed carefully at the tree rat, and threw the heavy acorn. However, she missed the speedy rat, though Kachee got the idea of the squirrel lady's plan. He dashed around collecting his own ammo, and began dropping the acorns, trying to hit Amber's head. Barely dodging the first few, she shot up in to the trees, and disappeared. As the young tree rat realized that the squirrel was no longer on the ground, he carefully looked to his right, then left, but when he turned to look behind him, it was too late. The squirrel lady slammed a paw into his stomach, knocking him out of the ring, unconscious. Breathing hard, the squirrel jumped down, and squatted beside Ala, who had been quietly watching so far.

"Weel done lass, you bae a stealthy fighter. Ah say, Lady Ambe' is the winner!"

Victorious, the squirrel walked, panting, down the hallway to the waiting room. Not surprisingly, the same shrew was already taking Dotti for the next match. She found Tiria and Sister May relating their fights with the others. She squatted beside them, and told about her experience.

"I see that our next and fourth competitor is here! Dorothea Duckfontein Dillworthy! Please take off your glasses as well, they are not needed in this match. This is the match for Dotti against Captain Clogg and Oilback!"

Dotti paced the newly designed ring, this time, it being the likeness of a rocky shoreside, complete with the rockpool in the center of the ring. A gigantic hard shelled crab paced the bottom of the pool, watching Clogg, Oilback, and Dotti's every movements. Oilback nervously pawed the empty slots in his belt, never having relished the idea of having his throwing daggers taken from him. He took up the same aggressive pose as his captain, Clogg, and attempted roaring out an intimidation. It turned out to be quite a loud pitched squeak, which made Clogg wince as he dashed around the hazardous rockpool roaring as he swung a clumsy paw at Dotti's unconcerned face. Grimacing as spittle flew all over her, she neatly leaped to the fat stoat's right, jumped up and gave him a smashing blow to his cheekbones with her right footpaw. Dotti gave out an earsplitting laugh as she neatly somersaulted over the crab's pool, and dealt Oilback such a punch it sent him flying over the center of the rock pool, and he crashed beside his blubbering captain. As the barn owl swept low to announce Dotti's victory, Cyren saw the crab begin climbing out of the pool. Hooting as he broke his descent, he flew awkwardly back to his beam top perch. Dotti examined the large armored beasts as it began scuttling towards her. Before she had a chance to think, she instinctively jumped and landed on the giants back. Furious, the crab began raising its pincers to knock Dotti off. Seeing the danger, the agile hare jumped off, and quickly picked up a large stone, hefting its wait in her paws. As the armored beast scuttled to face in her direction, the crab charged toward her, as she accurately threw the large rock in the mouthlike area of the crab. With lightning speed, the pincers seized it, and then, could not find a way to release them. Seeing that the danger was over, Cyren once again descended, and coughed nervously into the microphone, as the crab scuttle sideways crashing into the ring's wires.

"As you see, Dotti has prevailed as winner. I wi-"

"Ah ken, ye bonny birdbag. We bae knowing that ye nearly bae chopped up by tha' ol' monster. Dotti, ye wee lass, ye did well. Dotti bae our winne'!" Cheering and loud applause rang out for the fair way Dotti had beaten the crab and the two corsairs.

"Next, we bae 'aving Martin the famous warrior of Redwall. He will bae facin' Korvus Skurr of Doomwyte!"

Martin strode proudly to the ring, which now had been turned into a very lifelike resemblance of his home in the Northwest caverns. The caverns stood isolated in the back left corner, the seashore covering the rest of the battle ground. Korvus Skurr watched the strong looking warrior wearily, as the mouse circled him with a dangerous glint in his eye. Korvus Skurr took up a tight position, making him looked relaxed, though his black wings were tightly held back for a sudden attacking sprint. As the mouse strode in front of him, the big raven speeded forward, and clasped a heavy talon on the warrior's arm and wrenched it, expecting a gasp of pain from the pain. Instead, the mouse rolled backwards, pulling the large raven off balance, and freeing himself in the process. Unsteadily batting his wings, the raven began an upward surge, and watched the angry eyes of the mouse watch him as he circled, preparing for a sudden dive from above. As the big raven rapidly descended, he saw the mouse move, and swiftly swerved his downward dive to stab him ruthlessly in the shoulder. Martin gasped with pain and found himself unable to move his right arm. Angrily, he stood from his position on the sand painfully, and all of a sudden, grabbed the tail of Korvus Skurr, and wrenched more than just a few of the beautiful black tailfeathers away.

"Rahaaak! You mousebeast, dare pull the mighty Doomwyte's tailfeathers! Death! Death!"

In his rage, the large black raven charged the mouse, and failed to see the flying paw of Martin before too late. He lay in an unconscious heap as Alai announced him as winner.

"H'and our winn'r bae Martin thae warrior. Thank ye. We bae back soon. However, first let's 'ave a break, ye bonnie beasts. Next up will bae Blaggut the forme' searat. Fare ye well till then!"


	3. Chapter 3

"Ah buy me vittles everyday…everyday

Cause mah moth'r said one day…day

Tha' because it bae May…May

And May will truly say…say

Tha…"

"You should go take a tour of the Mossflower woodlands with us. We're the Five-Topped Oak business. We'll give you a healthy tour of the woodlands. Just for some little flowers. Mind, not any type of flowers or plants though – we want laburnum or Icetor flowers. As laburnum is so much easier to find, you can either bring a large sackful of them, or a little pouch of Icetor flowers. If you can bring just one Icetor seed, than that can be your payment. Thank you."

The screen shut down as the lights flickered onstage. As the usual, Alai was sitting behind her polished desk, her white brushlike tail quivering with some unusual happiness. Cyren was also smiling in the best way and owl could, as he perched on a low ceiling beam.

"Tha' bushtailed bus'ness bae such a ripoff! Though Ah must say before tha' before, when we bae fightin', our ring always bae so small, but thanks tae the effort of a shor' break, we were able tae expand tha' there ring. An'way, continuing with the fight, ou' next competitor bae Blaggut an' Cap'n Cludd of Mossflower!"

The large lumbering weasel watched contemptuously as Blaggut nervously circled around him. The searat had still remained timid in his own way, but he had been taught a short fighting lesson by Tarquin. In his isolated life by the sea, the searat had practiced his punching and kicking everyday, and so in that way, he had learned how to defend himself. Cludd watched his movements in a bored way, and took the time to look at his surroundings. He was at River Moss's bankside, and he watched the fish leap in the waters. He sat on a tree stump nearby, and looked through the wooded area, and found that he could no longer see Blaggut. Feeling a sudden prickling sense of awareness, he realized that he could be ambushed at any second. He put his back to a tree and looked to his left, than to his right and saw a fist flying towards his face. Before he could react, the slow witted bully fell, stunned by Blaggut's punch.

"Ah see tha' our winner bae Blaggut!" Cheers and smiles rang out as Blaggut smiled proudly, particularly when he heard a recognizable voice in the crowd.

"Wot wot! Jolly top hole, good sport ole scout!" Tarquin roared out with his wife Rosie and his many children.

"An' h'our nex' fight'rs bae Cap'n Romsca, and Vilu Daska' of the Legend o' Luke! Ge' ready, se', fight!"

Romsca backed up against the mast of the likeness of her ship. It reminded her of that time she had fought Lask Frildur that way, until he had fallen, and the kind Abbot Durral she had saved. Erasing the thoughts temporarily from her mind, she concentrated on the tall stoat who seemed to be leaning against the wheel of the ship. He spoke aloud, in a manner that even made her shudder.

"Ye died against a mast, I, against a wheel. You actually died with honor with your name as a corsair. I despise that. All besides me ought to die like a coward, like how I had to go. Join your friends in the Dark Forest."

Within an instant, the stoat bulled forward, than ducked and swung an uppercut at Romsca's chin. Swerving her head just in time, she kicked out with her right footpaw, sending Vilu retreating back. He apparently showed no pain, but with close examination, he was actually limping from the kick Romsca had shot at his upper thigh. Narrowing his eyes to slits, he scrutinized Romsca's every movements. As the time passed, the female ferret tensed up more and more until she could barely stand it. Bulling forward she neatly dodged the forward punch Vilu shot out, ducked, and leaned back with her forepaws holding her firm as she kicked high upwards from almost beneath the stoat. Catching the stoat well beneath the chin, she somersaulted backwards, and resumed watching the murderous eyes of the stoat as he wiped a dribble of blood from his mouth. The ferret saw Vilu stumble on his own long cloak, and she dealt a powerful kick to his back, which sent him flying off the 'ship.'

"An' ou' winner bae Cap'n Romsca!" Applause greeted her victory as she strode proudly down the long corridor back to the practice room. There, she practiced kicking around rubber balls, imagining them to be Lask Frildur and his Monitor lizards.

"We bae having h'our wildcat fight'r come next, Squire Gingivere, against Gabool the Wild o' Mariel of Redwall! Bae ye ready, prepare ye'selves, an' fight!"

Gingivere found himself in a sandstone quarry. He climbed to the top without question, and soon found the wild searat, tearing at a stone lump insanely. The mad beast was yelling something that the wildcat could barely comprehend.

"Ye'll die, ye stooped piece o' brass, ah've never gotten to rolling yer off the top of Terramort, but this time ye won't escape. Yaaaah!"

Gingivere watched the insane searat king attack the sandstone hump. As he remembered his duty, the wildcat stealthily crept up behind the unaware beast, and dealt Gabool a raking scratch from the back of his head to the beginning of his filth-covered tail with his powerful claws. The rat whirled around with agony and anger and threw a random punch at the wildcat. Sighing, the gentle wildcat unhappily sidestepped the attack completely, and threw a weak punch at the back of the mad searat's head. The blow was actually quite powerful, and knocked the insane _thing_ unconscious.

Cyren descended gracefully from his perch, and announced before Alai got a chance.

"Not surprisingly, Gingivere is our winner. Well done. Our next competitor is Young Dinny the mole, and Klitch, from Salamandastron. Let the fi – "

"Where bae tha' young mole? Ah nae like tae wait, so ye better get that bonny wee mole 'ere soon. So, 'ere 'e comes. Dinny, h'are ye ready to fight? H'all right, ready, set, fight!"

The two combatants took their positions hastily on the sandy ground, Dinny behind a rocky outcrop centered on the stage, and Klitch on top of it. Flattening himself against the outcrop, Dinny discovered a small hole caving into the ground. Diving in it as Klitch contemptuously threw pebbles at him, the young mole found that the outcrop was actually a well designed hollow plastic playtoy. The mole unsteadily crawled upwards, and immediately saw Klitch's translucent shadow, contrasting sharply, even through the translucent plastic. Spotting this, the young mole absently groped around for a hefty rock, and taking care and with absolute accuracy, he threw the rock straight at the blackish shadow. The impact made the structure tremble, and Klitch was knocked off-balance, and off the outcrop as well. Dinny took full advantage of the blue-eyed weasel's fall, and gathered as many large rocks into his tunic and clambered to the top of the outcrop Klitch had stood on moments before. The two rocks were quite sizable, as they weighed about as much as a longsword, and were about the size of two large carp, being hollow as they were. Rolling one onto the top of the entrance tunnel beneath the structure, the mole then held the light but gigantic mass-defying rock and threw it at the still stunned weasel. Klitch opened his blue eyes dramatically, and screamed out pitifully as the large rock rocketed at him from Dinny's high height. The rock failed to commit any real harm, but left him unconscious well enough.

"Hoo arr tha' there rock were nay but er great ol' loight missy, an' it were nay trouble lifting tha' one. Ho burr, it be me who be ther winner. Hoo arr!"

Dinny proudly bowed, and regally exited the room, his small stature quivering as the crowd cheered. All the young mole really heard was Gonff's voice.

"Oi, matey, that was a good fight yew put there, hoi Dinny!"

"Ah suspects ye know tha' the bonny mole bae the winner, nae doot abou' tha', me dearies. Ou' nex' beasts to fight will bae Grath Longfletch-Trueflight, an' Asmodeus! They bae ou' las' fighters for the paw-tae-paw combat. And 'ere we bae going! Ready, set, an' the fight bae on!"

Asmodeus' long coils sinuously rippled over the wrecked remains of what had been Grath's holt. The adder hissed his name as he stared at the female otter relentlessly. Grath took up a light bounce to her steps as she avoided the poisonous fangs of the adder. The frequent jumps she made helped her shrug off her fear, and stop herself from being hypnotized by the odd eyes of the hunting adder. The otter lured the snake into one corner, and right when the snake threatened to strike, she flipped a high somersault over Asmodeus' head and landed on the back of the snake. Pounding hard on its body, she neatly scurried off as the adder viciously twisted its head around and again launched itself at her. Asmodeus then realized that Grath's speed would determine her own victory, so the adder slithered to the mouth of the cave, and began forcing the otter backwards to a corner where he could block up the otter's movements, and bite the otter with his venomous fangs, which would ensure a victory. The adder shepherded the agile otter to one place of the cave, a dent which would take the size of an otter only. As the otter mindless scurried there, she realized all of a sudden that she was unable to move up or down, only forward into the adder's coils. Feeling the taste of icy fear, she confronted the adder eye to eye, and found herself immersed in a sudden feeling of relaxation. She blinked through her half-closed eyes, only to see the mouth of an adder descending towards her. Because of the low crevice in the rock, the snake had to back up to reach in there, therefore creating a small area of escape for Grath. Churning into action, the otter bolted out the hole between the snake and the edge of the crevice, and leapt out, receiving an unlucky slash from the fangs. Enraged, the powerful otter seized a large rock (Not hollow this time) and dug the side of it into the snakes spine. The large adder began lashing its life away as its coils flicked powerfully from side to side. Grath began losing her consciousness, as Frost the badger dashed to her side, and whisked her to the medical treatment center of Egburt and Floburt.

"Unfortunately, our last fighter was slashed but not injected by Asmodeus, who was most likely the most powerful opposer of all. But, cheers for our warriors, and let's rejoice that all our winners have won the paw to paw combat session! Whoohoohoo!" Cyren hooted merrily as Sister May, Tiria, Lady Amber, Dotti, Martin, Blaggut, Cap'n Romsca, Gingivere, and Young Dinny strode onto stage proudly, waving to the cheering audience. The stage now resembled a real stage, missing all the former details of destruction, cleaned up in a half-second by the powers of magical fanfiction.

Now, for you who are leaving today, as you exit, there'll be a little ticket booth-ish thing, and there, you'll be given a little piece of paper. Please write down the name of the beast who you think fought the best. Farewell, and have a good rest-of-the-day!"

What I said in the last paragraph is true, so please review this story and write who you thing fought the best. The fighters are:

Sister May, Tiria, Lady Amber, Dotti, Martin, Blaggut, Captain Romsca, Gingivere, Dinny, and Grath. The first five competitors fought in the last chapter, so if you don't really remember their fight to well, just flip back to the second chapter. Alai signing off. Bye!


	4. Chapter 4

Yes, it did take a while to update, but I still need reviews. Need. Reviews. =__=

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"'Ello, mah bonny fren's. Ah've been waiting too lon' for some suggestions for whoever thinks who was thae best fight'r, so Ah'm telling ye what Ah 'ave sae far. From mah bes' writers dar-"

"You mean _our_ best writers. Darktiger09 and Redwallfreak108." Cyren hooted as he took a short break and allowed a glowering Alai to continue.

"Ah ask ye tae stop interrupting me. Anyway, we 'ave votes fer Sist'r May, Grath, an' Romsca. Romsca is winning sae far with two votes. Wha' Ah find int'restin' is tha' one of thae people tha' voted for Romsca alsae voted f'r Martin before shae changed 'er min'. Wha' was 'er name agin? H'it was somethin' like gingerstone h'or roottopaz…"

"Ginger topaz."

"H'and they don' believe tha' owls like ye nae 'ave the bes' o' mem'ry. Wha' Ah foun' sae interestin' was tha' shae voted f'r Martin first, sae Ah'm givin' Martin a 'alf-vote, due tae mah desperate-ness f'r reviews. Mah- Ah mean h'our reviewers so far bae onlae four beasts. Darktiger09, Redwallfreak108, an' Ginger topaz Cyren 'as already mentioned, an' h'our las' but nae least reviewer bae…Spiderveil. Wait, tha' were nae it, so what was it, ye feath'rbag?"

"GossamerVeil. I resent being called 'featherbag,' so you should change your words, stripeless-dog."

"Ah got thae point. Ye ferget tae oft'n tha' Ah bae thae ruler of Galcai, sae Ah'll nae 'esitate tae put ye h'on a war with mah soldiers ye'll ne'er ferget."

"Hmph, Galcai, that old stone doghouse, you even sure you can call your little snowmen to life from your little housey? Hah, I bet your castle used to be a sand castle, until you stared with your ugly face at it, until it got so scared it turned to stone."

"So ye say, ye ol' flyin' pillow. Ah bet tha' ye used to bae a pillow, until the beas' tha' slept on ye realized tha' ye were so ugly tha' 'e threw ye off a cliff, an' said a rat'd look prettier." Alai snarled viciously as the fur on her nape bristled.

From the crowd, Blaggut (Yes, he had joined the crowd for now), Byral Fleetclaw, Cluny, Damug Warfang, Gabool, Gormad Tunn, Gruntan Kurdly, Hemper Figlugg, and countless other rats all shouted agreements, shouting their mind, amazingly in alphabetical order. They threw insults at the handsome, stunned owl, as he reeled back from Alai's mass horde of agree-ebbhrs in the audience.

The blue-eyed vixen smiled cheerily at those waving at her, and stole a contemptuous look at Cyren. As Cyren began slowly raising one of his talons due to his rage, Alai made sure her long sword and throwing daggers were much in evidence. Her newfound rat army cheered and virtually bristled with weaponry. As the combatants began circling, they roared as they charged to clash with each other. Then, out of nowhere, Frost, the big badger dashed out of nowhere and split the about-to-collide owl and fox apart. Alai and Cyren scratched bit, and punched, until the badger let go, but at last, Frost roared out.

"I KNOW THAT YOU DON'T LIKE IT, BUT THE AUTHOR NEEDS YOU ALIVE. YOU CAN KILL EACH OTHER AFTERWARDS, BUT FOR NOW, TRY TO STAY ALIVE!"

Subdued by the badger's fearsome outcry, they sat in dead silence as the badger stumped offstage, his white-colored stripes glinting beneath the bright stagelight. Alai was the first to break the silence.

"Tha' badger still creeps me out. Right before Ah though' he coul' control 'imself, 'e breaks mah trust agin! Tha'…tha'…tha' movin' stone statue!" The vixen began breathing hard, as if to steady her rising temper.

"I think for the first time in my life I can actually agree with you. I wish I scratched him harder on his side. He was supposed to be the security for me-"

"Us."

Glaring at Alai, he continued. "He was supposed to be the security for _us_, but now, he changed sides and joined the author! Rising angrily at the author from his seat, the owl shook and brandished his beak and talons with rage.

"Hello. I'm the author. Apparently, if you feel like killing me, that's impossible. BECAUSE I AM THE LORD OF THIS FANFIC!!! MUHAHA-wait, darn-it, why am I being so lenient with you people? Ugh. I should make you kill each other. But then I can't continue on this fanfiction. Shoot." The face of the evilly laughing author appeared out of nowhere on the commercial screen, and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

"Now tha', was scary." The two people- ahem, beasts chorused.

"JINX 12345678910 Ye bae owin' me a strawb'rry cordial. Ha!" As usual, Alai had been the first to recover, and had taken full advantage of her childhood soda-curse.

"Of the wild winds and curses! I've never seen and never want to see that thing again. It had such long black face hair on the back of its head, and almost nothing on the front! Even its snout was distorted! Its nose was so downward facing, and its eyes were so…weird. It didn't even have a tail! It had such weird black things on it's feet, that resembled flexible obsidian. It had such long meat things that extended into short flat claws at the end, and its body had no visible fur or feathers! By Cap'n Snow, those cloths on its body were disgusting! The shir-whatever-thing was large and baggy, barely fitting, while the pan-thinggies look like two large worm's suits sewn together at the top. Even, Alai's habit would fit me better." Cyren shuddered as he looked at Alai's clothing, a sky blue robe that stretched to her ankles, tied by a soft white rope embedded with small sapphires at the waist. Attached to the white embroidered belt was the scabbard for the long sword, tucked along with it were the two throwing daggers the vixen always kept. The long sleeves fell to her paws in a neat and even way. On the long sword, a beautifully large blue diamond twinkled with the light as the pommel stone. The cross hilt proudly showed three sapphires that resembled perfect mirrors of the dark ocean depths. The hilt was bound tightly by a soft cloth matching the type of the fox's belt. The scabbard seemed to glow with a sheen of white light, inscribed with unique pale blue symbols of dragons flying in the air. The daggers were less spectacular, white with a dull seeming appearance, which betrayed its actual deadliness. The dark blue embroidery on the very top of the tunic resembled a necklace which seemed like a beautifully innocent looking thing compared to the weapons she carried. Alai's crystal blue eyes seemed to glow stronger with the clothing she wore. Self consciously looking at himself, Cyren watched his snow white feathers ruffle with a faint breeze, and swiveled his head to regain his composure from his sudden rambling.

"Ah, sorry. Mmm. Anyway, the fact still remains, we need opinion slips. So please give you thought for the contest, and if you read this fanfiction and just stalk off silently, we want you to at least simply tell me the name of your favorite contestant. We are extremely desperate, so please, please give us a slip that tells us your favorite fighter."

"As much as Ah nae wan' tae sae it, the owl's righ'. We bae extremely desperate fo' yer opinions. Ah tell ye, the author'll ne'er write if ye ne'er give yer opinions." Alai watched the audience for reactions, her eyes burning with a dark flame. Cyren halted her with a brief stare from his large hazel brown eyes.

"You want a story, you have to tell us what you think." The owl and fox nodded their heads together, and then Alai seemed to relax all of a sudden.

"Ye still owe me mah strawb'rry cordial, Cyren. Ah'm waitin' for ye."


	5. Chapter 5

'supdooooooood? Also known as, "Hi." I need reviews desperately. UGH. I do NOT like waiting for reviews…but anyway. Since I feel too nice to be slacking off when ever I don't have reviews, I decided to fit as many in-between chapters as possible. Hahaha. I think this chapter is the weirdest yet. Methuselah's dream is actually this short fiction story I had to write for schoolwork. Taking advantages...

"Ah'm sayin' ah nae bae tae gladdened tae see yer faces once agin, me fren's. Because o' the need tae show up more constan'ly, we decided tae make this one day a story day, jus' tae take up some o' yer time. We 'ave 'ive story tellers, an' they bae Vilu Dask'r, Trissc'r, Methuselah, Russano, an' Ruggan Bor. Bae ye 'ere, ye beasties?"

The five said story tellers walked on stage, some looking obviously confused, others admiring the technology of the FUTURE zone. Russano and Ruggan Bor were the only two beasts who knew each other, and they started an icy argument, almost laconical in a way. They were interrupted as Cyren the snowy feathered owl hooted into his microphone for attention.

"We always know that dreams are sometimes vital and mandatory to fate. Here, we list some beasts that have applied for the 'Strange and Pointless Stories' show. Going by alphabetical order, mmm…….Methuselah will be going first. Would you give us the honor?" The owl waddled forward in an oddly regal way, and presented a microphone to the old mouse. Coughing a few times into his dark green habit, the old mouse began reciting a rather intriguingly strange story.

"When I was looking into some ancient books of Martin's history, I stumbled upon a record, of one of his many journeys. It was during the Great Mossflower War, when he had journeyed to Salamandastron, to get help from Boar the Fighter, as they were seeking help to defeat Tsarmina, the tyrant of the woodlands back then. The old journal told me of how he had escaped Mossflower, and trekked across the barren lands. He traveled to the great mountains, and fell down a waterfall entrance, to find himself in Bat Mountpit. Then, from there they entered the treacherous marshes of the toads, and luckily managed to escape to the vast outstretches of the sandy western coast. After traversing so far, they finally came to the mountain, only to join Boar in the last fight he would, and could ever face. What I thought was so odd, was that the author of this journal said that Martin himself could not recall much of what the waterfall was like. I thought about this, and though I dreamed this even before the time Matthias came to our Abbey, I can recall it so vividly.

I dimly realized a throbbing pain in my skull as I feely opened my eyes, to see a rage consumed river, thrusting with its high waves at the bank sides like a beastly predator attacking its prey relentlessly. The ominously clear river contained no trace of vegetation or life in its roaring whitewater. Amongst the high rolling waves of the unseemly river, chunks of ice floated about, aggressively proving its lethal coldness. This powerful water flow rushed into a cave of obsidian darkness, with the odd limestone stalactite glinting off the unpredictable current of water, giving off the eerie pretense of glowing eyes. I took only a brief glance of this wild river that was seemingly laughing at my natural reaction to shrink away. But as I tried to curl up in a ball to hide away, I suddenly found myself floundering in those very waters I had spotted moments before. The icy touch of fear blended in with those frigid waters as I strove and fought the high waves. My instincts for survival arrived as it desperately seemed to fight alongside me as I kicked out in my seemingly hopeless situation, battling and avoiding every large wave that appeared in front of me. They seemed like endless torrents of men charging to a war, regardless of who they pass in their midst, only caring about their enemies. The waves seemed like beasts armed with chips of ice resembling tooth and claw. The metallic taste of blood made me hack and nearly choke as it littered the water with its scent and color. As hope began to subside from within me, it all of a sudden reappeared as a small black fence built right across the river. The fence seemed so perfectly free of wear and tear, so much that it was such a large victim of suspicion. In my haste I barely recognized this, as I grabbed it with a last spurt of energy, and crawled dispirited to the top, soaking, and cold. The waves hissed behind me agitatedly as I crawled beyond their reach. As I prepared to lift my leg to descent from the top to a safer zone, unexpected warmth resonated across my body, starting from my hand out. It was almost enjoyable at first, as the heat contrasted sharply with the agonizingly cold water. But soon this comfort grew into a burning pain similar to touching a red hot metal sword. I held on until my hand seemed to have burned through, and I finally reluctantly let go as my mind seem to waver. The sound of the waves seem to dim as I was carried along with the current. The blue cloudless sky whooshed by seemingly uncared for, and suddenly turned into a likeness of a dark quilt studded with beautiful stars of light reflected from the water to the stalactites. This beauty was lost upon me as all of a sudden, the path my body was so carelessly being tossed around on suddenly sloped downwards, and my ears seemed to pop and my consciousness nearly faded completely with the sudden new agony, and within seconds, I could barely breathe, even while gulping down air in my downcast state. I had not much longer to last, and as I greedily sucked in air as I rocketed downward and suddenly a resounding bang resounded as a brief last pain hit me."

A stunned silence seemed to envelop the room, which then turned into a burst of vivid applause, for Methuselah's excellent recalling of his dream. Taking a humble bow, the old mouse bent his posture, with a peaceful smile on his face, as he almost fell asleep immediately.

"That was icily scary, but a wonderfully brilliant story. Next for storytelling is…Ruggan Bor. Would you please tell your story?" 

The golden-furred fox stared intently at another strangely clad vixen lingering about the door. The female fox walked out, revealing herself to be Grissoul. With a few whispered instructions from Ruggan, the seer began her story.

"My master was sleeping one night, a half score seasons after the incident with the beasts of Salamandastron. Thou hast dost know that I had been casting my bones, shells, and feathers, as I hast done ev'ry night. That day, one short, slightly bended leg bone fell in the angle of a square to a long brown feather. The short leg bone had a small blue shell adorning the sand lying around the bone. At the north end of the long brown feather, a green algae cover'd shell with purple showing from underneath lay slightly to the west to the tip. I knew this dost be meaning that we were tae walk along the river by a boat not stolen, and travel north along the path until we reached the mythical place of Noonvale. Questioning, I went tae sleep, an' before long, a dream flitted by me. Like any rightful seer, I found myself dreaming, dreaming of this odd male mousebeast, waving a greeting tae anoth'r she-mouse, tha' was singing something like a lovesong. The nex' day, I tol' my lord about this, and he said it was of the 'ero of Redwall…"

"THAT'S ME!!!" Expectantly, Martin of course.

"…who 'ad on his first morn at Noonvale greeted 'is love. Well, tellin' this did not make tae much sense tae my lord, an' though his Lordship did nae understand it, he roused ou' Juskabor clan, an' we traveled in a mere half-score days, tae Noonvale. It was filled wit' little mousebeasts, moles, and the average 'goodbeasts'. We scared them intae cover, and there, thae only treasure we found was a beautiful flower, a red rose with ruby color'd dew specked on the delicate petals. Dark emerald colors radiated from the drops of water rolling down thae plant's stem. I took a sprig, an' brought it back tae the Juska camp. I planted it, an' the next day, an omen said tae me tha' the Taggerung of Redwall 'ad finally aged to his death, an' the new one was born on that very day. A young black fox was born, an' immediately was cherished by her mother and Ruggan. It grew to bae the new Taggerung, an' took over from Ruggan, though Ruggan stayed as her master. The female black fox was named Blight, as she proved as deadly and as ruthless, unlike the otter Taggerung before her. She did not prefer wearing Ruggan's chieftain cloak, but instead sport'd a long black scarf embroidered with the leaves of the red rose plant. She therefore changed her name to Tear, and removed her tattoos, in a way we nev'r found out. A Taggerung has never again appeared since then…"

"Ah thought tha'… weel, ne'er min', Nae bother wit' me. Please tae continue."

"There is no more." The vixen gave Alai a dark stare with seemingly fogged eyes. A confused smattering of claps followed, and it was relatively quiet in the room.

Shuddering slightly, the white vixen pretended to ignore this. "Weel then, let's continue, shall we nae? Nex' in alfabaetical order bae ……… Russ'no, woul' ye please tell yer story fer us, mah fren'?"

"Certainly. Well, you see, I was on a walk without my Redwall friends, and remember, at that time, I was not the lord of Salamandastron yet. Well, as a young badger, I was curious about the woodlands surrounding the beloved abbey. I was walking along towards the east side from mid morning, when I saw this clearing, where an abandoned house lay. I looked around it, and saw that either the residents had gone off to visit someplace or somebeast. I saw no harm in taking a quick look, and did so. Inside, I found an odd array of medicines and poisons. Wrinkling my nose in distaste, I searched and looked around for nothing in particular. All the liquids were labeled neatly, and there were two things that caught my eye. The first was a flask of the legendary cure – Icetor flowers boiled in springwater. There were eight flasks of this unmatchable medicine, and it was colored a beautiful light clear blue, that seemed to let out a sparkling light. Taking one flask, I carefully concealed it in my green-brown cloak, and continued my search. The second thing of interest I found was this old brown scrapbook, quite large and heavy, and it was labeled something like "Geniam of Ercus." I flipped through it, and I saw rare plants' names all scribbled down, along with mostly likely six thousand score little words written down. Once in a while, I would spot a dried flower or leaf somehow glued onto the book, mostly likely with rice. Oh, rice is this type of seed that has a shell, and tends to grow in water meadows in the east. It is edible if you crack the shell, but the seeds are oh-so-tiny, and when boiled in water, they become sticky! Well, back to the book, it taught me all about the plants in Mossflower, every single one. It listed many foreign plants too, so I theorized that the house residents were probably were traveling for some new types of plants. Seeing that the house had just been left, it became quite clear that the beasts were not going to come back soon. I returned to the abbey, and copied every single word out of the book. Yes, the badgerlord of Salamandastron, a thief! It took me a full twoscore days, days of getting up, picking up a quill, and writing from early dawn to mid-afternoon, when I'd eat a healthy large lunch. I'd also take some snacks with me, to suit me until late night, when almost all the beasts in the abbey except for those in the kitchen staff were asleep. All that time I'd be writing, and by the time most Abbeybeasts were in bed, I was stuffing myself with dinner. Bringing a healthy supply of food back to my room, I would prepare for bed, and write until I felt I was about to drop off to sleep. Finally, I would go to my large bed (purposely for badgers) and flop down with weariness and sleep 'til next morning. It was an exhausting routine, and when I left for Salamandastron, I had memorized every single plant in the book, and its main purpose. Later in my years, when the badgerlords before me were beckoning me to the Dark Forest, I managed one last solo trip to the clearing in the meadows, and saw that house, burned down, but all the flasks were safe underground, as I found after days of grueling search. Calling to a sparrow nearby, I offered him a bag of candied chestnuts to ask 10 of my patrol hares to come to that place with a cart. They apparently received my message and promptly came in six days. When they arrived, I asked them to help me load the scores upon scores of flasks into the cart. Padding the glass flasks carefully with soft dry hay and new grass, we set off for this place in the most westernly fringes of the woodlands. Here was a perfectly quiet and secluded place, and I by myself, loaded all the contents into a stable hold dug by my hares that was underneath a large tree. I sealed off the entrance cleverly, and so, nobody has apparently found it. I watch that tree everyday as a spirit, and so, still, nothing has happened to it.

"Interesting story, Russ'no. Ah aim tae seek tha' tree one day…" Badger glare. "…bu' of course tha' day nae bae soon yet. Ou' nex' beas' bae Trissc'r. Swordmouse, would ye come 'ere?"

"It's swordmaid, flourfox."

Bristling at the bold squirrel's insult to her white fur, Alai began unsheathing her white sword. But as the shadow of Frost appeared, she quickly sheathed it again, and berated the swordsquirrelmaid.

"It bae snowfox, mah bonny wee lass. Ye nae ought tae forge' tha'. Now, f'r yer story, would ye please tae tell it now?"

"All right, flou…snow fox. Well, it was on a day, when I was walking along in the orchard of Redwall Abbey. Storm clouds gathered above, sending a wave of heat flushing down as the first warm drops of rain spattered down. The abbeybeasts had long evacuated the storm, but just due to habit, I decided to walk around the ramparts as a wallguard, just to scan for others coming for shelter. I walked around the north and east walls, just to see nothing, but as I strode down the south wall, I noticed an odd face peering out. The wind ripped savagely at the knotted shields of the birch trees; the lightening struck at the overhanging of jade colored leaves, battering mercilessly at the little protection they provided. In the darkness, an ebony face glimmered in the shadows, its exotic beauty frozen into a standstill position. A single pair of round, dark moonstone eyes moved, staring into the lashing rain; framed in dark lashes, their mesmerizing stare boring into the clumped trees. A dark smile flickered like death's shadow on the portrait of perfection, and abruptly, the mysterious, wordless, unmoving silence disappears. The slender marbled dusky-black sable moved forward, exposing the rest of her wraith-like body. A phenomenal, flawlessly sleek beast appeared into the light of the moon, bathing her in golden light, until even her dark fur appeared to be glowing dark amber in the falling rain. There was a wavering smile about her delicate features, and raindrops like drips of liquid obsidian dribbled down her elegant cheeks. The raindrops reflected the light from of the moon, making it seem as though her face sparkled and glowed. Suddenly, she moved her face, disappearing into the darkness. Only her eyes remained. Her eyes like two pools, glittering like bronze covered with a thick sheet of ice. All I could see was her eyes, concentrating fiercely on the south wall gate, the wooden frame dripping with wet tears of the sky. The moon peeked out from behind a cloud, a cloud that was bringing torrents of warm, wet rain pouring downwards. The rain flattened the fur on the beautiful sable's face, and pressed the dark garments she wore further onto her. What I was worried about was that strapped against the back of the slender body of the beast was a glistening sword, shining like white fire even with the moon sending down so little light. I scrabbled around for a set of bow and arrows, when I realized I had left them in the belltower. If I went to get them, the sable could have already broken in and taken over the abbeybeasts, who were dining and preparing for slumber. Watching the sleek sable move towards the wall, panic rose in my chest, and I watched her simply slice the door into splinters with one elegant move of her sword, like a hot knife onto butter. She crept in, and soon, I lost sight to her black, sleek body, and a leapt down the steps, sending my legs pounding like pistons on to the sandstone. Obviously, I had made too much noise, and she quickly camouflaged, and her dark, ebony body blending perfectly into the rain consumed night. Frustrated, I searched the orchard, only to fail, so I ran back to the abbey, and barred every door leading inside the large sandstone building. I went to sleep with an uneasy feeling, but finally slumber claimed me, and I was given the merciful release of sleep. The next morning, we found the barred doors sliced open, the tapestry stolen as well as Martin's sword, and even a note she had left behind. It was written obviously by a skilled hand, and said, "Aliya of the Baless." I immediately went on a search for the sword and the tapestry, but found the tapestry by the ditch, covered in mud, with the sword sticking through the image of Martin. Horrified, I rapidly transported the tapestry to the abbot, and returned to the spot, unable to find a single pawmark, a single piece of evidence the beautifully slender sable had ever existed. Five seasons later, an arrow was shot at our bell, saying again, "Aliya of the Baless." Skipper and I quickly rounded up a troop to find the sable, but she was gone. However, right outside the abbey walls, an embroidered black scarf laid there, its gold markings unaffected at all by the dust. We kept on guard for the rest of the night, yet nothing occurred. By the next season, the abbeybeasts including me all had forgotten this incident, and after the fateful day we went to bed, the abbot's handsome son, Altaeho was kidnapped. We never forgot the handsome dark-furred mouse, his misty brown eyes, his soft, black fur, and his sleek, yet strong figure, who many a young maid had tried to be loved by. Though I never saw the pair of them again, I still dreamed of the beautifully dark amber eyes of the sable, glistening off the shrouded dark brown eyes of the handsome young mouse."

"Ah think Ah know who tha' sable bae, an'… weel, ne'ermin', ah take tha' bae the end of yer story, treemouse? Wha' a story, ah almost fell asleep durin' it! Anyway, we 'ave one more story teller, thae stoat Vilu Dask'r! Please ye tae come up."

The powerful pirate stoat snatched the microphone from Triss, who was gaping at Alai's disrespectful words. In a booming voice, he shouted into the microphone, repeating the sound he had heard the last second of his life.

"!!!" Putting much emphasis on the "fooo," the sound of creaking and breaking timbers blended in with the sound of rushing wind and water, which seemed to deafen everyone in the room. Clamping a talon covered foot over the stoat's mouth, Cyren grabbed the microphone away from him. Struggling in the owl's vise-like hold, the stoat wriggled and squirmed madly like a possessed beast.

"MMPHKKRRRPHTTTTTT!" Muffled growling and snarling echoed in the room as Alai raised her own microphone to her mouth.

"Apparen'ly ou' las' story teller 'ad gone mad, an' sae we will nae bae able tae 'ave another story today. Ah'm sorry, but the next show we will 'ave will promise much action, an' we will announce thae winner of the paw-tae-paw combat! See ye soon, mah guid fren's!"

For Ruggan Bor, Russano, and Trisscar's stories, you can use their stories for your own fanfiction if you like them, but please tell me before you use them. Thank you.

Also, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review, because if I don't get a few more reviews, I'll have like five or six beasts that tie. And that isn't good. Review. Please.


	6. Chapter 6

I've finally decided to put the winner of the 'paw-to-paw' contest in this chapter. I would have probably waited for like a thousand reviews before I'd really be satisfied with who should've won.

"I always feel like, somebody's watching me? Geico. 15 minutes can save you 15 percent on your car insurance."

"Wha' in thae world of Mossflow'r bae a car? Bless thae thing, Ah've ne'er 'eard of tha' before. Eh, who bae the one who put it up? Och weel, Ah kin bet ye tha' it bae Cyren." A slightly- no, that would be an understatement, a VERY surprised snow fox stumbled out from behind an elegantly carved wooden desk. It took a few seconds for her to regain her composure, and to glare in a confused way at a beautifully white feathered owl.

"Aye." Cyren looked slightly disturbed, swiveling his head a full one hundred eighty degree turn. In his claws was a wriggling weasel covered in weeds, so much that that the scrawny beast looked like an overgrown worm. In horror Alai watched the owl, slowly raising the talon holding the squirming ferret.

"Ye nae bae eatin' tha' Flitchaye bae ye? Monst'r, Ah'll kill ye before ye try it!" In the space of a lightning strike, the gleaming sword rippled from its sheath, to rest a hair's-breath (Why is it always Hair's-breadth?) away from the raised feathered leg. The white cloth bound hilt complemented the snow white paw that grasped it, as the three deep sea blue sapphires glinted in the bright stage lights, as the large-ish blue diamond sent beams of colored light flying from its position as a pommel stone set into the bright sword. The glimmering blade sparkled with cleanliness, and the owl almost naturally dropped the wiggling weasel, and backed off.

"Hmph. SORRY. That okay for you madbeast? Feeling protective over your little vermin friends, eh?" The owl snorted as he perched 'safely' on one of the beams on the roof. As Alai began unsheathing her daggers slowly, Frost's roar of warning sent her to spin the weapons skillfully back into the cases.

"Sae. We finally bae 'aving ou' contestants show up agin for the winner's awar'. Firs' Ah'd like tae give credit tae those who turned in their opinion slips at all." The snow fox turned her attention to a small piece of paper, squinting as she began pronouncing what she read.

"Ah thank ye, darktiger09, Redwallfreak108, GossamerVeil, Ginger Topaz, Sileneia Laiyili, and, well thae author of this story. Ou' opinion slips. Sae…"

"Darktiger09, Grath Longfletch!"

"Redwallfreak108, Sist'r May!"

"GossamerVeil, Cap'n Romsca!"

"Ginger Topaz, shae 'ad 'alf a vote fer Martin, full vote fer Romsca!"

"Sileneia Laiyili, agin, 'e also 'ad alf a vote, tha' bae fer Sist'r May, full vote bae fer Grath Longfletch!"

"An' well thae author – shae voted for Dinny, sae we 'ave quite a few contestants nae with a vote. Thae bae – Miz Tiria, Lady Amb'r, Dotti, Blaggut, an' Gingivere. Sae, we 'ave now…" Alai trailed off as Cyren interrupted.

"Let me talk, would you? Thank you. Our winners right now is Grath Longfletch and Captain Romsca, both with two full votes. In second comes Sister May, with one and a half votes. Than, comes Dinny with a full vote, and finally Martin with a half vote. Tiria, Amber, Dotti, Blaggut, and Gingivere, unfortunately, they all tied. However, the author had a list since the beginning of who she thought should be the winners and losers. Because of the lack of opinion slips, this is the ordering for the remaining five. They do not receive a real vote, just they get ordered. So…Amber, you are after Martin. Tiria, you, are after Amber. Blaggut…"

The owl listed off the remaining two until the 10 contestants stood in a straight line. The line proceeded as – Grath, Romsca, May, Dinny, Martin, Amber, Tiria, Blaggut, Gingivere, and Dotti. In there eyes, there was a different flare – surprise, anger, joy, and satisfaction. Grath and Romsca were quite surprised at each other, because it was at a time when the ferret had been Grath's enemy, yet both had won. Sister May was ecstatic at having such a high rank among her fellow contestants. Dinny's button eyes glinted and seemed to dance with pride and joy as he replied to those cheering for him in the crowd. Martin's dark eyes seem to settle with a tinge of shame, yet that was betrayed by the face of happiness he put up. Lady Amber seemed to not care to much about her rank, yet Tiria seemed slightly surprised and almost angry about how she had done. Blaggut seemed too happy for words, about the fact he had not lost. Gingivere held a humble look in his eyes, and smiled at Grath and Romsca simply, as he turned to the raging hare, Dotti, who was stamping and silently seething with rage, as she had lost.

Mulstee (He's in the advertisement in Chapter 2) the otter bounded upstage, with the bounce of youth touching his footpaws as he bowed and arrogantly place the medals in Alai's paws. With a frosty glance from the snow vixen, he sprang off, as Cyren continued speaking.

"Grath, Romsca, you both will get medals of gold. However, because you tied, with each other, they are imbedded with silver as well." Alai regally presented them their own medals. Scrutinizing them, they were about the size and shape of a large coin, and elegant carving of an otter playing with stones decorated the gold and silver medal of Grath, and for Romsca, she had a coin that donned an inscription of a ferret picking a damson off a tree on the gleaming medal.

"Sister May, you will receive the real silver medal." Alai selected the silvery medal from the awards hanging on her arm, and passed it to the young Redwall sister. Carved upon the glowing medal was a picture of a mouse, raising its paw to pick a flower.

"Dinny, you shall receive the bronze." Taking a glimmering bronze coin-medal from her arm, Alai presented it to the beaming mole. The medal boasted the picture of a mole playing with an ant.

"Martin. You will be receiving the crystal medal." A clear see through medal appeared into Alai's paw as Martin took it dully, hardly noticing the mouse on his medal, which was leaning against a large tree as if it were a good friend.

"Lady Amber, Tiria, Blaggut, and Gingivere, you will receive the participant medals – a gemstone set into steel."

Lady Amber grumbled slightly as Alai gave the squirrel a medal – a small, yet clear piece of amber set into a tiny false-gold frame with a background of steel. Around the border of the medal, the picture of a young squirrel sniffing daintily at a flower on a tree seemed almost real. Tiria was quite amazed she even got a medal, one that was mostly like Lady Amber's, though the gemstone for her was a sapphire, and the carvings were of an otter picking some hotroot. Blaggut was given a medal that claimed a small ruby surrounded by a fake-gold frame, set in polished steel, which boasted the picture of a rat eating a russet apple. For Gingivere, he was given a medal with a gemstone of emerald, which gleamed with the steel and false-gold encircling it. The portrait of a wildcat leaping happily up into the air decorated the steel.

"Dotti, I'm sorry, but because you lost, you only receive a pearl." Dotti struggled to keep her anger within her, as Alai handed her a small white pearl, covered in a thin glass shell.

"Well, those are our winners! Our next contest in the fighting category will be archery, or any weapon of long range – bow and arrows, javelins, slings, basically things like that. Well, the contest will be coming up soon, but first, to end things up today, we have a challenge for Grath, Romsca, and Dotti. They will compete, and that will be our ending scene for today. The competition for them will be eating, boasting, and fighting. However, Grath and Romsca will be on a team, because they both won gold. Well let's start now! First is the eating contest. Let's go!" Flying back to his perch in the ceiling, he watched the tables and trolleys being moved out, full of roast chestnuts served in cream and honey, clover oatcakes dipped in hot redcurrant sauce, celery and herb cheese on acorn bread with chopped radishes, huge home-baked seed and sweet barley cake with mint icing, October Ale, pear cordial, strawberry juice, dandelion milk, elderberry wine, mint tea, candied chestnuts, cheese, dandelion and burdock wine, scones and honey, roots and tubers, garlic pies, ramson bread, nutbrown ale, almond bread-wafers, rye biscuits, deeper'n'ever pies, leek and onion broth, fruit pie, damson wine, nut pudding, quince and apple crumble, buttermilk, and hundreds of other food types Cyren hooted, and Grath and Romsca took their seats at one table, and Dotti took her own seat at another. Heaps of Redwall food overflowed the tables, and Dotti already was drooling. Romsca had never seen Redwall fare, so she was eager to stuff herself full. Grath was exhilarated at seeing all the hotroot soup and other otter treats at the table.

"Ou' losers will bae those who cannot eat more servings than the other. Och weel, Ah nae kin tell who will win. Ye kin sae tha' all thae bowls bae of thae same size, an' so one bowl bae one servin'. We 'ave two volunteers tae count thae servin's eaten. Bucko Bigbones fer Dotti, an' Martin thae second fer Grath an' Romsca. Let thae eatin' begin!"

Romsca began with a relish, delicately tasting one dish of every five on the table, eating exactly one bowl of each. She decided to stick to eating the delicious skilly and duff produced by the woodlanders. Here and there, she would grab a bowl of hotroot soup and thin and long biscuits, and dip them into her soup and eat them. To quench her thirst, she declined wine and ale, and stuck to mint tea, pear cordial, and strawberry juice. For her, this would be a time of food and memory.

Grath was doing a little better than Romsca. She had headed straight for the large cauldron of hotroot soup, and had filled bowl after bowl of the remarkably hot and spicy soup. She only paused to breathe air, and launched herself at the cauldron almost automatically each time she sucked and slurped up a bowl of the delicious and addicting soup. After eating almost a score of the servings, she finally stopped, ate a slice of juicy melon, and started after a thick, delicious looking stew, which claimed to be made by Grumm, Martin's companion/traveler. She decided she liked the stew, and headed for some invention cakes made by Grumm also. Grath, she was having a good time.

Dotti. Well, as a hare, we can imagine her slowly chewing away, eating nonstop, chew chew, eat eat, munch munch, bowl after bowl of food. Pudding, cake, biscuit, scone, pie, trifle, flans, grayling, carp, stew, soup, porridge, fruit, vegetable, all of them disappeared as Dotti calmly picked them out from the table. Elderberries, redcurrants, blackcurrants, gooseberry, blackberry, raspberry, blueberry, cherry, russet apples, pears, melons, and all sorts of fruit disappeared from her table, as well as so many types of roots and vegetables joined those going down the seemingly endless pit of Dotti's stomach. She took deliberate care in tasting every morsel she ate, and took no promise in stopping anytime soon.

"Sae far, it 'as been thirtae minutes, an' for thae team o' Grath an' Romsca, they 'ave a score an' thirteen servin's down, and Dotti 'as a score an' a 'alf. Because Ah ken thae'll bae eatin' tae late night, we will let Dotti eat three more servin's tae match up tae the number of those eaten by Grath an' Romsca. Then, we shall let eith'r Grath or Romsca challenge h'a one on one eatin' race, a race tae eat terwelve servin's o' any choice o' food. Dotti, bae ye ready?"

Dotti slowly munched away three servings of pear and apple flan, as Grath and Romsca quietly discussed in a rather laconic way about who should challenge Dotti. When Dotti claimed herself ready, Grath walked up, for she would be the competitor. Alai continued speaking, and Grath held up a large spoon like a sword, as Dotti held up a monster fork like a spear.

"Grath, ye will bae eatin' 'otroot soup, Dotti, ye will bae eatin' damson pie. Are ye ready? EAT!"

Grath launched herself at the cauldron, dunking her bowl into the cauldron and throwing away her spoon, just slurping the bowl dry. Dunksplutch …. Shlupp … shlupp … dunksplutch … shlupp… shlupp…Bowl after bowl was filled and drank, with great relish. Dotti was chewing and eating away like a true Salamandastron hare, and pie slices seemed to vanish into thin air. In the end…who do you think won? It was…DUN DUN DUNNNNN…It was indeed Dotti. Victorious the hare cheered herself hoarse, and Grath sat with an slightly uncomfortably stuffed look.

"Dotti bae ou' winner fer thae extra contest. Ou' nex' extra contes' will bae thae braggin' contest. Och weel, Ah 'ave think Ah know who will bae winnin' this one…Well, let's see, aye, but first a break."

"Once upon a time, Martin came and said, 'Move it, fool, vermin, you suck buttcrack.' The vermin was enraged, and hit Martin down. Martin unsheathed his awesome purple sword, turned into a monster-sue and danced around the weasel singing 'Elmo's World,' the ultimate death song. The vermin was tortured to death by the point of noise over deafening, and to end his misery, Martin decided to take his now rainbow colored sword, and stabbed the weasel through the heart. The weasel all of a sudden turned into a beautiful she-mouse, wearing a long tunic, with bright shimmering eyes, and a tall stature."

"!!!"

"Yes, it was the evil Mary-Sue, Silvereye Meadowsweet Diamondsong Crystalline Mouseangel Rosealine Maryline Laterose. She turned into Gonff, and when others weren't looking, she became her horrifying sue form."

"!!!!!!"

"That is the fate of the infected Martin."

"WHA' BAE THA', EH? Weel, anywa' it bae time for thae braggin' competition. Rules bae, nae combat, jus' words, jus' words. Cyren will bae thae judge."

Grath and Romsca were dressed differently than before – Now, Grath sported a medium length tunic with bright blue flowers and yellow bees embroidered on it, making her look like a young otterkit. Romsca wore a lengthy motherly dress, gray, with a few pink stripes on it. Dotti was wearing a bright yellow tunice with a strawhat that had a yellow ribbon tied around it.

Romsca spoke first, with her somehow-changed-voice-that-had-no-corsair-accent. "Shall we go picking flowers today? Daughter, look, it's a bright yellow bunny! Let's take it home!"

Grath flushed slightly when Romsca called her 'daughter,' but played along. "It's not a bunny mother, it's a ha…no, it's rabbit! See, look at its long ears!"

Dotti had been inwardly controlling her anger, and tried to turn the otter and ferret's words against them selves. "Daughter? Hey, you're an otter, she's a ferret, are you adopted people? Daughter?!? Well, let's go have some fun, waterhound and its mother!"

"Well, I can't go today longears. O my, all of a sudden you looked ugly there!" Grath took full advantage of the glare Dotti shot her.

"Daughter! Her name is bunny-rabbit! Not long-ears! Mind your manners! Oh my, you want to play fierce? I'll show you fierce, RABLAGABLO!" Romsca roared in a terrifying imitation of a wolverine. However, Dotti quickly grabbed the hold she provided.

"My my, I didn't mean to be rude, but that? Are you still a little child? It's ! How's that, old chum?"

"Bless my rudder! You must have been born in a kettle! I know, the kettle does make quite the noise, eh?"

"Daughter! Hmmph…She was born in a onion, that's why she's crying!"

Dotti mumbled a few words as she pretended to be crying. Then she shouted, "I was born on a warm sunny day, because the rain was so afraid of me it didn't rain for a score seasons! I lived eating the sun, drinking its light, sleeping in its heat! Then I pulled the clouds back, and whipped them until it rained again!"

"Oh my. Did you get sunburnt? At all? My my, a slave driver or nature! Bad, bad, bad."

"Aye. No garlicbottomed onionbummed milkmoustached rotten bounder of a stinking old decomposing rabbit tongue could ever make such a shameless remark of hurting good Mother Nature! My my, dear long eared rabbit, tsk, tsk. Miss Wormy-Foodface Longear Rabbit, please excuse yourself."

Suddenly, Dotti could take it no longer, and just roared, and dashed away in anger, to stop herself from trying to harm Romsca and Grath in her insulted rage.

"Sae Romsca an' Grath bae thae winners! Now, all we bae 'avin' left is the fightin' contest! Aft'r h'a short break."

"Gonff was not only a thief – he was Silvereye Meadowsweet Diamondsong Crystalline Mouseangel Rosealine Maryline Laterose in disguise. His, I mean her, secret weapon was the rose planter. He, I mean she, carried a small hollow dagger that contained rose seeds in it, the seeds of her flower. She would stab a vermin, and deposit the seed while doing so. That would change anybody he, I mean she attacked. She became the ultimate sue, the monster Martin had created. Because of her horrifying-ness, she became known as Mary Rose the sue, or just as THE Mary Sue."

"!!!"

"Yes, I could not believe the story when I heard it. But I heard it with my own ears when I tortured Martin on the hot iron stakes. Roses blew out of him, and he turned purple, his body became monstrous, and…"

"Enough of yer talk! On with thae fightin' contest o' Grath an' Romsca agin Dotti! Are ye ready?" A nod in response was enough. "H'all righ' then, ge' ready, ge' set, FIGHT!"

Grath had taken off her childish clothing, and had replaced it with her customary green-gray tunic. She carried her bow, yet due to the rules of the fight, she had discarded her arrows. Temporarily. Her bow served as a well made staff, and made whizzing sounds as she twirled it.

Romsca had dressed herself newly into a dirty-ish smock, with a decently made cloth that covered her mostly, except for the short kilt she wore at her hip. In her right hand, there poised a spear, with out the spearhead, again, due to the rules of the fight. It served as a javelin almost, or a solidly straight staff.

Dotti carried a medium sized bag, which she bounced in her pawpad. The bag apparently boasted some large slingstones inside, and together, the burden weighed a hefty bit, but easy enough to sling around and smash into one person's skull.

The three combatants circled around each other, brandishing their 'weapons.' Romsca attacked first and sent the solid staff humming to Dotti's bag-paw, and at the same time, Dotti raised the bag, which sent Romsca twirling with unsteadiness from the momentum. Grath dashed into play as Dotti charged towards the dizzy ferret, and the otter smacked hard with her rudder onto Dotti's shoulder. Due to fanfiction, Dotti was not hurt, but on the Pokemon scoreboard, she lost three of her 15 points, while Romsca had only lost one point.

Wait, Pokemon?

Dotti was sent flying to one side, which gave Romsca the time to clear up her mind. This time, she and Grath moved in a pincer movement, trying to trap Dotti in a position for her to both look and defend one way, and be taken down from the other way. Knowingly the battle trained hare expertly realized their plan, and taking a few experimental bobs, the hare vaulted an unbelievably high distance above the two beasts' heads. Taking full advantage of the other two's temporary halt to stare in awe at her, the hare sprinted forward, sending her bag crashing into Grath's face, and a footpaw onto Romsca's stomach. After both losing 4 points, Romsca appeared to be the first one to recover, and stealthily, pretending to be lying prostrate like her 'friend,' she slowly moved her paw until it rested on the handle of her staff. Then, as Dotti prepared a powerful boxing punch, the ferret felt her muscles tighten like springs, and as the hare pounced, Romsca sent her staff flying upwards, knocking Dotti off her and away. 4 points. So far, Dotti had now 8 points, Romsca 10 points, and Grath 11 points. Deciding things were not going very well for her, Dotti closed her eyes, and felt a strange sense come over her. She could almost feel and see the otter Grath slowly raising her bow, to send a powerful blow to somewhere approximately on her lower left side. Lazily, in an unsuspicious way, the hare fisted her paw, and as Grath silently whacked downwards with her bow, Dotti rolled to oneside, and yelling, she shot a powerful uppercut to Grath's chin. Here, Alai noticeably groaned painfully, and Grath lost 6 points. Quite proud of herself, Dotti turned, to see Romsca poised above her, and in a split second, a resounding 'BAM' noise could be heard, and Dotti slid off to the other side of the area. 4 points off for Dotti, none for Romsca. Grath had recovered as Romsca had hit Dotti, and stealthily dodging like a wraith, Grath weaved herself around until she found herself behind Dotti, and facing her back. With a mighty blow, she smacked her powerful rudder into the region of Dotti's kidneys, as Alai almost barfed, and Cyren had to announce the winner for her.

"And our winner is…Grath and Romsca! And that will be all we have time for today! See you soon, for the range contest! Farewell my faithful audience!" The white feathered owl hooted, and the lights dimmed.

Pretty long chapter. Took me a few snippets of time from my days, plus some researching in books for food names, and thing like that. It's 11:42 right now, Saturday night. I feel rather tired…Ubluh.


	7. Chapter 7

"'ello mah fren's. Ah'm finally back agin, jus' t' say tha' the lon' range contest shall begin now, t'day, an' righ' now. Sae with any les' time-wast'rs, ah'll show up thae com'rshal an' we'll bae on ou' way, och aye we will!" With that the snow fox pranced off the stage, however Cyren was determined to have the last word.

"Hmph, Alai, why are you so happy today? Did you eat some shu-gah? Or choh-ko-lit?" Looking quite crossly at her, Cyren harrumphed and exited the stage along with her as she snapped shortly at him.

"Jus' ge' off the stage, will ye, ye lumpy feath'r-brained idjit! Ah wan' tae see thae people shoot! Ge' off! Cummon, ge' off!" As the owl hopped hurried offstage, the commercial snapped on.

"Moozik 'ere, moozik 'ere mateys! We do be sellin' these li'l met'l circles! They kin 'old moozik! Wanna 'ear sum of the thin's ye kin 'ear? Watch this me fren's!" A wildly grinning shrew waved about a CD, meanwhile scratching it carelessly as he irately flipped it clumsily into a CD player.

"Lalalala, lalalala, Elmo's world….Lalalala, lalala, bzzzzzzzz ckckckkkk Heeee love bzzzz 'is gol'bzzzzzz fisshhhhh ckkkkk 'is crayy craaaaakkkk ons…" Smiling sheepishly, the shrew hurriedly clicked a glowing red button, and backed off lightly.

"YEAAARRRHHHHHHHH…Ye idjit, tha's not moozik, list'n t' this!" A large otter sucked in a lungful of air and began singing, remarkably horribly.

"ZAZEEZOOOseedee eee meraydo doraydooooooooo…."

"Shuttup ye two! My word, I'll show ye moozik! Martha marm, Abbess Song, Craklyn, Piknim, an' the res' of ye ladies, show them the true meaning of myuuzik!" A bad tempered mouse shouted at them, and waved wildly to the female singers behind them. Taking his meaning, they sang, of course, legendarily beautifully together.

"The autumn winds blow down on my ears,

Sending shivers running with my old fears,

I lie as fate comes to me,

Bringing tears, sadness, and joy to see,

Ahhhhhh, ohhhhh, tears I shed!

My heart sees beauty and sadness,

O joy must I bless!

O my friends must I pray for you,

So that, I can one day really do,

Something that you had always done for me,

Something that you had always done for me,

You helped me struggle through all my hardships." (To the Redwall Nelvana cartoon theme)

"Thank ye ladies!" Applauding closed them off as the commercial screen slowly blackened up into the stage background.

"Mmm, sae it bae time f'r thae range contest! T'day, we will bae 'aving five contestants, sae first we will 'ave Sist'r May, Miz Tiria, Lady Amb'r, Dotti, an' Mart'n! Sist'r May?"

Sister May walked up onto the stage, which had been lengthened considerably for the challenge, of course with fanfiction powers. In her hand she held a sling, already loaded with a small rock. She had spent her entire break learning how to use it from Gonff, and had mastered it quite well. Nervously, she stepped up, did a quick curtsy, and began whirling her swing around to build up the momentum as Cyren spoke.

"Sister May, her first throw for distance!"

Loosing her hold on one end of the cloth that made up the sling, the rock rippled out from its rest there, and it flew out as her arm paused at a 60 degree angle forward, simultaneously letting the stone fly. The rock stood out as the grey stone whizzed forward, flying an appropriate distance, landing perhaps a score paces behind the other wall. Smiling ruefully, she then reloaded her sling as the announcer shrew hurriedly set up a target about another score paces behind the place her first stone had landed. Again, the good sister whirled her sling around as Cyren rapidly hooted out again.

"Again, Sister May, throwing for accuracy!"

Again, Sister May, threw, though this time she released slightly lower, and much faster than before. The grey rock zoomed above the stage floor, and after two seconds of intense waiting, the rock slammed into the paper target, ripping straight through the outmost ring to the other side. Scrambling back, the shrew glanced at the target, scribbled down some numbers on a bark parchment with an already prepared quill. Then, holding his writing equipment in one hand, he grasped the torn target, and stumbling, he hop-skipped off the stage as another four shrews came in, almost crawling as they struggled to move a large talc lump onstage. (I chose talc because it's a really soft rock.) The shrews set it down where the first shrew had set the paper target. Then, for the final and last time, May reloaded her new sling with a small but oh-so-sharp rock, and determined, she spun the braided sling around with speed unimaginable.

"Last time, Sister May, for throwing power!"

Letting go of one end, the good sister watched her rock fly, straight and true, hitting the talc boulder. It sent dust flying, and when the dust settled down, a deep pit was revealed, the small sharp rock at the bottom. The announcer shrew again hurried in, and stuck a measuring stick into the pit. Rapidly scribbling down symbol, he stuffed the bark parchment into one of his pockets, and helped the four shrews carry the boulder out. On his way out, he halted the boulder crew, and handed the parchment to Alai. Taking it, she read aloud the numbers.

"As ou' guid ol' shroo fren' 'ere wrote, Sis May 'ad 6 pointers fer dist'nce, 7 fer accurissy, an' 9 fer pow'r, according to the one t' ten point scale. Sae, she will bae getting an' aver'ge o'…" Taking out a small calculator, Alai tapped some buttons, as Cyren mentally calculated the answer, using super owl-is-wise-and-awesome power.

"Seven point three, my educationless friend." Cyren mockingly taunted Alai as she scowled.

"Yes, th' feath'rbag bae righ'. Alsae, because t'would bae some trouble tae use tae many of those things what ye call de-see-mals, we will do what 'umanoids bae calling estimatin'. Sae, May will bae getting' se'en poin' five points! Now, nex' bae missie Tirya! Cummon up 'ere, please."

Grimacing at the mention of himself being called featherbag, he raised a talon, but quickly relaxed it when 500 or more rats glared at him from the crowd.

***

A/N "Do even five people read this? Sob." The author moped as she typed this sentence.

"Yes…indeed, you have SEVEN, no, EIGHT! Yami'sGurl-or-GoldenEyedNinja, Tres Cuitt, Redwallfreak108, darktiger09, GossamerVeil, gindz, Sileneia Laiyili, and Ginger Topaz." There whispers the author's conscience. "You ought to give them some recognition."

"YES, I will! so much peoples! :D" There goes the now happily smiling author.

"If you want to thank them, continue writing the story. Jeez."

"BE THAT WAY."

***

Now, Tiria had reached the standing marks, and like what most would expect, she was holding a sling in her hand. Of the many beasts that knew her, she was an expert slinger, and like what most people would think, she had good chances of landing high in the ranks.

"Now, Tiria, slinging for distance!"

Unlike May, Tiria did not need to whirl her sling for momentum. Instead, she held her sling behind her casually, then as swift as a lightning strike, she whipped her arm forward, expertly slinging the rock like a rocket (no pun intended?) from the sharkskin sling the badgerlord had made for her. The stone zoomed off, way past Sister May's mark, landing powerful into the opposite wall, leaving a dent there. Wincing, Alai tried not to frown at the deep dent in the wall, and let Cyren continue talking as the shrew pinned a paper target against the opposite wall of where Tiria stood.

"Er, well, Tiria, scoring for accuracy!"

This time, Tiria again used them same tactic, and the rock again went sailing, hitting the target, practically dead on, except for it ended up half a ring to the right. She had remarkable accuracy, because it was quite a large distance, yet she did it, her feat true and non-imagined. Mentally cheering herself, Tiria loaded her sharpest slingstone into her sling. Awaiting her call from Cyren, she watched the shrews trundle on and off stage, carrying the equipment around. For what seemed an age, they kept on moving, and she got less and less confident each millisecond that passed. When the white feathered owl finally yelled out, she was admittedly nervous.

"Tiria, scoring lastly for power!"

This time, Tiria began whirling her sling around rapidly, obviously more skilled in doing it then Sister May, but as the boulder was so far, she had to concentrate on distance, accuracy, and power to boot. So that was what she did, spinning her sling around until it was just visible as a grey-white blur, and just as rapidly, she release her hold on one end the sling, and the stone, eager to be out of the cage of the sling, happily flew forward like a minijet at the green-white streaked boulder in the distance. When the rock finally decided to inflict some damage, it did so with startling noise. A clearly audible thidingPOW was heard, and greenish-black sediments flew, and it took a while for the flying dust to settle down. Sticking his measuring stick in the hole again, the shrew scribbled some signs on a piece of paper, and scurrying to Alai again, he handed her the paper, and then scurried back to help the four shrews carry the damaged boulder offstage. Squinting at the paper, Alai tried to read the mass of squigglies, but finally understood the messy scribblings.

"Mmm…sae, Tiria 'as 10 poin's fer dist'nce, 9 fer accuracy, h'an' 9 fer pow'r! Sae, tae av'rage tha' ou', she 'as…wai' h'a second please…mmm…"

"Idiot. The answer is 9.3, flourfox." Apparently, Cyren had picked up some insults to hurl at Alai. Pretending to ignore the owl, Alai calmly took a sniper rifle from the back of her belt, and slowly yet threateningly, raised it with her paw, until it was aimed right at Cyren's feathery chest. Roaring, the powerful badger Frost roared out of nowhere, and snatched Alai's gun, and taking it with him, he darted offstage.

***

A/N Why didn't I think of guns before this? Sigh.

***

"ONIONBUM OHO Give 't back, mah fren'. C'mon, ye relly shoul' giv't back now, noo doubt och aye, Ah wannit back." Drawing her blade, Alai crouched, pulling another gun out as bait.

"RAAR. Hello, Alai. Please put the gun down, or I will have to shoot you. With this little toy. I mean, this BIG toy." On the commercial screen, the author appeared, grinning insanely with a hand set on the trigger of a huge bazooka set on a table. Shrinking back, Alai failed to notice Frost taking her gun again. Pretending nothing had happened, and that she didn't notice Cyren was smiling, she coughed officially.

"Ahem, mah deer list'n'rs. Sae fa', we kin sae tha' Sist'r May 'as se'en poin's, an' Tiria 'as nine poin' five. Nex' contes'ant will bae Lady Amb'r!"

Walking onto the stage, the female squirrel majestically bowed to the audience, and testing her well waxed bow with a few stretches. Her muscles strained beneath her tunic of mint green, as she strung a white goose-feather fletched arrow upon her long yew bow. She pulled hard upon the bowstring and turned her bow sideways as she aimed in a 45 degree angle.

"Ehm. Lady Amber for distance!" Cyren rapidly shouted out as he took to the air.

Narrowing her eyes, Lady Amber pulled the string on her longbow back so far, the normally almost-straight bow was bent like a huge 'U', the arrow's tip resting on the strained and curved bow. Taking two more seconds to make invisible adjustments, Amber then let go, and watched with satisfaction as the arrow zipped off, showing no sign of lacking in distance or slowing down. The squirrel archer smirked as her arrow landed right beside Tiria's clearly visible dent in the wall. The shrews hurried onstage, placing a new paper target right alongside the first arrow she had shot. Again, Amber took a brown speckled-white feather strung with brown cord to a long oak branch, tipped with a shining metal arrowhead. Stringing her arrow on the bowstring of her longbow, she tilted the entire structure diagonally, and carefully aimed at the circular target.

"Lady Amb'r, aimin' fer accurissy!"

Almost immediately after Alai's shout, the squirrel lady released her arrow, watching with satisfaction as it soared up the miniscule fraction, and descended right as it neared the target, landing straight on top of the red circle sketched in the middle of the circular target. Smiling proudly, she strung her last arrow onto her bow as the shrews trundled on and offstage. At the end, the large talc boulder lay at the position where the target had once been. Her last arrow had been specially made for this last test – her arrow was fletched with a golden hawk-feather, its oak shaft slightly thicker, and the tip blunted. Preparing herself, she waited for her call.

"Ahem. Amber, shooting for power!"

Sighing, the elderly squirrel archer raised her bow, and using all her strength, she pulled back on the waxed string making even the strong yew creak and groan, she quickly aimed, and released her firm hold. The arrow whipped forward, making a whining sound as it flashed through the air. Relaxing her arm, she watched grimly as the arrow made a resounding thump-thunk into the boulder. Proudly striding offstage, Amber's sharp ears caught her scores even as she was half-way down the hallway separating the stage from the waiting room.

"Sae, Amb'r go' ten poin's fer dist'nce, ten fer acurrissy, an' nine fer pow'r! Ah mus' say, tha' do bae quite amazin'! Sae, fer averij, she'll bae getting' h'a…9.7! Ah hav' tae say, tha' Ah'm sorry she do bae gettin' h'a nine poin' five, not h'a 10…Weel, och aye, there's still bae se'en contestan's tae go! Nex' bae…Dotti. Would ye please tae coom up y'ere?"

"Aye, wot! Mmm, I'm usin' the jolly ole ladle wot. Whazzizname, ol' Grumm, aye, 'e taught me 'ow t' use the ole device, wot. Top hole old chum, its bettah than h'a caterpult, wot. Ye know, wot, this is how ye use it, top hole thing, eh. So ye…"

"Ahem, Dotti, you can do that later. For now, please load your…your…"

"Ladle."

"Ok, then, please load your ladle, and prepare to shoot for accuracy."

"Hmph, wot, jolly bossy ole sack o' feathers. Wot, top hole Grummerz chap, watch this, wot wot!"

Dotti's ladle was a very long ladle – its handle was quite long, and though she appeared chatty and somewhat annoying, she knew that the long handle of her ladle gave her good opportunities. She loaded her oak soup-ladle with a hefty rock, and held it with her right arm. Then, she moved her arm all the way back, raising her left footpaw in the same process. After some irritating silence, she then stepped hard on her left footpaw, bringing her right arm forward in the space of a whipcrack. The stone flew forward, humming a tuneless song as it rose up…and slowly descended as momentum deserted it. The rock rolled innocently to a stop and Dotti mentally jumped up and down in frustration as her keen eyes saw the stone, innocently resting a few paces from the opposite wall. Mentally calling Grumm celeryface, wot, she scowled as she loaded her ladle once more. Impatiently she watched the shrews dart on and off stage, carrying the paper target.

"Ahem, Dotti, scoring for accuracy."

Snorting, Dotti held back her ladle-catapult, and after some "Careful" calculations, she whipped her arm forward, sending the rock flying clumsily towards the paper target. Amazingly, it struck the wooden frame of the target, shattering the thin structure to splinters. Slightly disappointed at her bad aim, but happy at the sheer destruction she had caused, Dotti almost skipped off before she remembered she had one more throw. Loading her long soupspoon carelessly and whimsically, she watched the shrews stoutly carry the talc boulder back to the spot Dotti had smashed the target to splinters. Absently, she barely heard Cyren's quick delivery of words before she mindlessly but powerfully whirled her ladle forward.

"Dotti for power!"

Right as the snow owl finished the sentence, the stone whizzed forward at the boulder. Taking practically half a second, it flashed by, and then, a huge WHAM was heard, as choking dust flew up. The shrews tied on fire-fighter masks on and dashed to the scene, playing, "The Rescuers of the Rock." Putting on the face of a brave and valiant warrior, the announcer shrew dashed forward, and made a big show of fanning dust away from the rock. Another shrew pretended to be the announcer shrew's sweetheart, who watched her warrior bravely protect the rock. He, acting as a she, pretended gasp in horror as the announcer shrew began choking, and all the shrews in company gasped in unison. As they laid him on a cot and prepared to take the 'dead' shrew away, the shrew leapt up briskly, made some measurements of the pit Dotti had made, and rapidly scurried to hand another little birchbark parchment to Alai. Blinking and rolling her eyes at the 'emotionally beautiful' act, Alai read aloud from the paper.

"Och aye, ye beasties, sorr' fer tha' thin', Ah 'ad nae part o' it. Eh, mah fren's, sae Dotti 'as eigh' poin's fer distance, five fer accurissy, h'an' ten fer pow'r. Sae, she'll bae getting' h'a…" Leaving off, Alai began typing on a calculator in a businesslike way.

"Seven point seven." Cyren irately snapped out the answer and clearly showed a spiteful and contemptuous look that was visible to everyone.

"Ye wee feth'r…h'owl, Ah ne'er ask't ye. H'anyway, noo we bae 'avin' Mart'n h'as ou' nex' contest'nt. Mart'n?"

"That's my name."

"When did ye turn sa'castic, eh, mousey?"

"Now."

Snorting, Alai sat back in her chair and watched Martin pick up a javelin, perhaps in honor of Felldoh or something. As the warrior mouse drew back his arm, Alai suddenly noticed that Martin's arm was atrociously long. Narrowing her eyes, she watched as Frost bounded over to her and whispered in her ear, with huge clouds of steam going down her ear as the big badger breathed.

"Marm, is Martin allowed to use arm lengtheners? Remember those notched sticks you learned to use from your time travel trip to see Ballaw and company?"

Springing up, Alai drew her sharpest dagger, and with the experience of a true traveler, she quickly recalled the estimated length of the arm lengtheners, and spying a suspicious wrinkle in Martin's long sleeve, she tossed her dagger in the air, then catching it, she threw it accurately straight at the wrinkle. It sliced straight through the stick, chopping Martin's sleeve right up to the point where his hand was visible, grasping a little stick, the remainder of the arm lengthener. Signaling to Frost to get him to pick up the dagger, she screamed triumphantly and accusingly at the same time.

"By thae name o' thae sun, Ah ne'er knew tha' Mart'n, ye bae a cheat'r!"

Scowling, Martin snapped a reply. "Heh, who's talking now? A vermin, in fact, a fox, but not only a fox, a vixen! Hmph, and who was always the queen of cheaters in life, eh? That's what, vermin, if you can cheat, well, SO CAN I!"

Frowning, Alai replied evenly. "Eh, mah bonnie wee fren'," Here Martin's scowl deepened. "When 'ave Ah cheat'd in this 'ere cont'st? Eh, eh?" Martin scowl deepened even further, if that was possible.

"Weel, ye firs' talk bad tae me, h'an' then ye insul' mah kin h'and kind, then ye cheat! Och aye, th're will bae a pun'shment fer this, Mart'n. Ye bae DISCWAL'RFIED!"

If ever possible in the world, Martin scowl deepened until his face was practically was invisible. Ignoring this, Alai continued speaking.

"Sae, Ah'm s'rry, bu' tha' bae the en' o' t'day's show! Thank ye mah deer fren's, sae Ah will 'ope t' see ye soon!"

Cyren interrupted, his face still angry. "That is if this author feels like updating soon, you flourfox." Her eyes taking an insane-looking tint, Martin bounded offstage, scowling, as Frost hurriedly drew the curtains close. Muffled sounds of screaming and a full-waged war were clearly audible. Wincing, the audience backed out. The booming voice of the author waved them off.

"Farewell, my faithful readers!"


	8. Chapter 8

"'Ello." A rather gloomy looking fox stared at the crowd – no, not the crowd, but the handful of beasts watching. The few beasts replied glumly, yet somewhat accusingly as well.

"Hi." Practically all of them were wearing the perfect mask of sarcasm. One beast, a particularly large wildcat snarled a reply.

"Hemph, we wait 'ere all day, f'r a whole ten days, an' ye finally decide t' show up agin? Lazybeast." Alai winced, and replied in a whining tone.

"Ye nae unnerstan', sah. Ah bae workin' on h'another story, an' mah latest chapt'r fer tha' story bae 6,297 words long. H'it did take me ov'r h'a week to get it done…Ah nae bae typin' at lightin' speed an' Ah cannae coom 'ere ev'ry day, an' Ah do 'ave oth'r things tae do…"

"JUS' GETTON WITHIT!" Clearly wincing, Alai almost timidly moved to the side of the long stage.

"Ahem, sae, Blaggut, would ye please tae coom up firs'?"

"Aye, Cap'n – I mean m'lady."

"Ye nae 'ave tae call me lady, searat. Jus' call me Alai, Blagg't."

"Aye then, Alai." Sighing in exasperation, Alai barely could keep the snarl from her reply.

"Blaggit, jus' coom up 'ere." The searat obeyed, and soon his stupidly grinning face was visible under bright showlights.

"BLAGG'T. Where bae yer weap'n?"

"'ey…ye nev'r said I had t' bring h'a weapon…"

"Jus' get it an' run on back, ye pigbr-searat."

"Aye aye Alai. Hey, that rhymes! Aye aye Alai, aye aye Alai, aye aye Alai, aye aye…" The dull searat skipped off singing the phrase. After 5 minutes of rolling eyes, he finally returned, skipping, singing, and waving a largely rusted cutlass in the air.

"Aye aye Alai, aye aye Alai, aye aye Alai, aye aye Alai…"

"BLAGG'T. Ah nae tol' ye tae get h'a cutlass, Ah told ye tae get h'a long-range weapon!"

Adopting a hurt expression, Blaggut replied. "No ye didn't Alai, ye jus' said tae get mah weppin."

About to whip her blade into Blaggut, Alai screamed, so high pitched none could hear it except for some dolphins swimming across the ocean by the Twin Islands of Luke the Warrior's time. And those dolphins did wince. Cyren finally fluttered onstage, hooting.

"Blaggut, just throw that…that…cob of metal please." Obliging, the searat did an overhand toss, but letting go of the hilt to late, the swordblade landed neatly between his footpaws. A shrew peeked around a door, and looking at the proud stature of Blaggut, the shrew guffawed, a bit too loudly. Wincing again, Alai waved the speaking part to Cyren.

"Eh'm, Blaggut, aiming for accuracy."

Placing a paper target right in front of Blaggut's face, the shrew announcer scurried off, snorting as he tried to suppress a fit of the giggles. Drawing his cutlass 'expertly,' Blaggut went for a sideways swipe, completely missing the center of the paper target and knocking the flimsy wooden target frame. Loud chortles could be heard from backstage, and Alai winced even more fitfully. Several shrews arrived, shaking with unreleased laughter as they placed the boulder right where Blaggut had been standing. Jumping out of the shrews' way, Blaggut soon merrily returned, being forced to sit on the boulder.

"Blaggut for power."

The clumsy searat held his rusted cutlass above his head, and with all his might, stabbed downwards on the boulder beneath him. The boulder seemed to cough up a pitiful geyser of dust, and a broken cutlass blade was soon visible, along with a too-hilarious-to-explain expression on Blaggut's face. However, even though his efforts made people fit to burst, the damage was done. (Why have a heard that phrase so many times? …but, the damage was done.) A shrew skipped onstage, eyes scrunched closed, lips pursed, and his entire body shaking with laughter. Opening his eyes for a split second to weigh up how far Blaggut's blade had gone, the shrew snorted and cavorted with eyes scrunched, lips pursed, and body shaking to Alai. Alai winced at seeing the scores.

"Blagg't. Zeho f'r dist'nce, och aye indeed, h'a bonny three f'r accurissy, h'and a surprisin' six f'r pow'r. That avirijes at h'a 'ilarious…" Here Alai winced even more. "H'exaggertly three poin's!" Eyes rolled as sarcastic paws clapped. (Sarcastic paws?)

"Eh'm, sae nex' t' coom up 'ere bae…Romsca." The ferret strolled casually onstage, carrying a knotted rope, similar to Mariel's Gullwhacker (How do you spell it?) except for a bit longer.

"Would ye please tae shoot f'r dist'nce, mah bonny fren'?"

"Aye, wot, Cye." Winking, the ferret corsair swung the knotted rope in a blurring circle, then letting go at an accurate 45 degree angle. The rope whizzed off, flying proudly as it hummed through the air. A clearly audible THUNK was heard, and cheering followed as magically, the group of beasts watching suddenly grew into a crowd, then a real audience. For the first time so far, Alai did not wince at this sudden appearance of beasts, and actually, finally smiled – not exactly happily though.

"Eh, Romsca, drop off th' las' name, would ye please t' do. Thank ye – Ah do bae asking ye tae jus' call me bah mah firs' name or mah nik-name. Anniway, Romsca, shooting f'r accurissy!" With predictable events occurring, the shrew zoomed onstage riding a motorcycle, deposited a paper target against the wall. Crashing into many walls, the shrew clumsily adjusted invisible buttons, and then just blundered straight through one of the stagewalls, creating a rather despicably large hole. Sighing, Alai clicked on a time-freeze button. The audience froze, unable to move, so they were able to get a good view of Romsca, about to release her rope. She stood like a statue, defying science and gravity as the rope stayed upright, not flopping down as it should have. After what seemed like a millennium, time returned to normal, Romsca let go of her rope which went flying, and the hole the shrew had made was invisible, completely fixed up.

"BZZZBOOOMDING Ahahaha," went the rope, humming as it flew, straight at the target. However, a particular badger in the crowd had decided to randomly throw a metal chain at the fixed up hole in the wall, but the flying rope had perfectly intercepted the chain, as it hummed through the air. The impact of the two items was disturbing, and the jingling of the iron chains were quite frightening as they rolled offstage, somehow disobeying the rules of science. However none of the beasts cared as they stared accusingly at the insane badger, laughing eerily. Frost the big badger appeared from nowhere, and quickly grasping a bazooka, he hefted it, and shot a huge bullet at the laughing badger in the crowd. Instead of blood flying out, pieces of marshmallows did. A terrifying voice echoed as the badger from the crowd.

"Lucky Charms…I am the marshmallow…fear me…"

"Atroshusties! Mah word, Ah though it bae h'Apreel. Ah soospect tha' if tha' crazee badg'r had not int'rupt'd, then Romsca, ye'd have score h'a troo h'an' bloo score!"

"Ha, vermin scum, just cheaters, just cheaters." The enraged voice of Martin echoed, and Alai began to wince once again.

"Eh'm, Mat'n keep tae yerself. Now, Romsca, f'r pow'r!"

The ferret whirled her rope as a car crashed onstage, carrying a boulder, and skillfully, the car exited. Romsca frowned, perfectly imitating Alai as the two females watched the tiny shrew drive the contraption offstage. Romsca let her knotted rope go, and it crashed through the still air, landing at the boulder with a dramatic boom. Rigging a telescope quickly, the shrew examined the pit created by the missile. (We're really going into the future now, aren't we?) Alai all of a sudden was handed an iPad (What does it do?) and confusedly tapping random buttons, the iPad began speaking.

"HELLO THIS IS NOT A IPAD LIKE YOU THINK IT BE A MINDREADER THINK A PROBLEM AND I SOLVE FOR YOU ahahaha."

"Wha' bae this pie Ah bae lookin' at made o'?"

* * *

"Ne'ermind."

"Used especially in negative contexts to add to one term another denoting something less likely with this knee I can hardly walk, _never mind_ run"

"QUIE'!"

"**1 a** **:** marked by little or no motion or activity **:** **calm** a quiet sea **b** **:** **gentle**, **easygoing** a quiet temperament **c** **:** not interfered with quiet reading **d** **:** enjoyed in peace and relaxation a quiet cup of tea  
**2 a** **:** free from noise or uproar **:** **still** **b** **:** **unobtrusive**, **conservative** quiet clothes  
**3** **:** **secluded** a quiet nook"

"BZZBOOOMPOOPAhahaha."

"Unidentified sound-effect."

"Roar."

"The typical sound-effect normally used to describe the sound big cats (lions, tigers, etc.) make."

"Gulo the Savage."

"A huge wolverine – the main antagonist in the Redwall book "_Rakkety Tam"_ by Brian Jacques."

"Alai."

"My owner – an insane arctic fox."

"Cyren."

"My owner's…unidentified friend snow owl."

"iPad."

"Not me. An Apple product."

"Romsca's score."

"10 for distance 8 for accuracy 9 for power average is 9."

Then, to most of the audience's relief, the machine disappeared. Sighing gratefully, Alai spoke out in a voice close to a whimper.

"Th' future bae scary…Anniway, ou' nex' contestan' bae…drumroll please…eh'm…wait…Gingerveer." A hunched wildcat strode old-man-like onstage, carrying a sniper rifle. Wincing painfully, Alai waved the speaking part again to Cyren.

"Please wait a moment." Again, time froze, and right as it turned back to normal, people realized that the stage was five or six times longer, and if one was standing on the left side of the stage, he or she would have to strain enormously to see the little rectangle which made up the right wall.

"Ehm, Gingivere, for distance."

Hefting his rather long barreled weapon, Gingivere aimed it at the distant wall, adjusted the rifle's green laser to full power, so far away, the round green dot was clearly visible. Pulling on the trigger, Gingivere could not even match his quick eyes with the bullet (I don't know what they shoot. Bullets? Gaah.) flying swiftly through the air, seeming faster than lightning. A faint sound was heard, and soon, a helicopter emerged from behind Alai and Cyren as they both hopped (Owls hopping? Fluttered, whatever. :D) out of the way. The aircraft zoomed forward, and with a closer look, it appeared all five shrews were driving it. Two sat in the front seats, carefully examining all the levers, buttons, and controls, and tapping them. One was actually hopping around, pressing buttons, pulling rudders, and doing unknown things. Another shrew was wearing sunglasses, holding a lemonade cup, and posing. The last shrew was peering through the windshield struggling to see the miniscule bullet Gingivere had shot. As the helicopter drew near the opposite wall, the vehicle suddenly made a sharp U-Turn, and returned to the left side of the immense stage. However, before leaving, the posing shrew suddenly and magically threw a paper target to the ground, and miraculously, the flimsy thing stayed upright. The quintuple zoomed offstage, somehow managing not to crash into any walls. Wiping sweat off her brow, Alai offered to speak.

"Ah beg y'r pard'n, sae, noo, Gingiveer f'r accurissy."

Again, Gingivere made invisible adjustments to the gun, with much clicking audible. Then, he rested the long gun on his shoulder, and carefully turned on the laser. The green light flew, and it rested on the barely visible target. Unable to actually see the miniscule target from so far away, Gingivere kept on making little adjustments to the laser. Finally, the wildcat gave up squinting at the distant object, and just pressed the trigger of his sniper rifle once again. The barrel again released a bullet, straight forward at the hardly visible paper target. A sudden flame erupted, but was immediately extinguished as a shrew walked majestically out of a rainbow colored portal and sprayed the fire violently with a huge watergun. Then, the shrew casually looked at the center of the burnt up target and grabbing it and beckoning to his four fellow followers, they carried a iron or some type of metal boulder onstage. Lastly, the quintuple all of a sudden posed, startling all. Alai half-heartedly watched the shrews dance into the bright colorful portal as they departed.

"Eh'm, Ah still bae thinkin' the feyootchur bae scary. Ginjiveye, fer pow'r."

The elderly wildcat sighed, and again raising the gun to his shoulders, the beast aimed, then fired. The bullet whistled through the air, cutting it like a…a…bullet in the air should. With a resounding boom, it ended its flight dramatically with stopping at the metal boulder. Boom was too little of a word to describe the sound that occurred, truthfully. But anyway, the portal reopened as the shrews once again stepped out, and taking a quick glance at the ugly hole in the metallic boulder, the announcer shrew dramatically rolled a huge, miles long scroll across the huge stage floor. It rolled and rolled and rolled, even though it came to the time it should have stopped, it rolled and rolled and rolled. When the scroll finally came to rest at Alai's foot paws, (bowling – good accuracy, eh?) she picked it up, and 6 tiny words lay inscribed on it, in overly flourishing hand script and totally unnecessary designs drawn all over.

"Dist'nce – 9, accurissy – 7, pow'r – 8." Sighing in disgust, Alai threw the scroll over her shoulder. However, the portal reappeared there, and a shrew hastily picked it up and again, disappeared along with the portal. Without blinking, Cyren replied to Alai's statement in a dirgelike voice.

"Average is 8."

"Ah knew tha', nae thanks t' ye. Ah admit Ah do bae getting' scared. Nex' bae Dinnee. Young Dinnee, Ah ask ye tae coom up 'ere?"

"Whoi, indeed oi do be accerpting, moi deer fren' o' mine."

The mole trundled in; irately pulling a huge catapult very similar to the one Timballisto had built in "_Mossflower."_ Facepalming, Alai again clicked a button, freezing every aspect of time inside the stage-room. By the time she decided to unfreeze it, the stage room had completely changed. It was an outdoor view of Kotir, a wildcat figure high up in the top of the model of Kotir. The stage had become shorter, but much MUCH higher than before. Using his hefty digging claws and his head, the mole balanced a boulder on his head as he carried it and deposited the rock at the rock-holding place in the catapult. Then the mole rested his paw on a lever as Alai spoke.

"Eh, Young Dinnee, f'r dist'nce!"

Pushing down hard on the lever, Dinny watched, satisfied as the boulder flew like a huge misshaped eagle as it crashed into the stone model of Kotir. Bricks flew, threatening to smash the crowd, but most were relieved to see the bricks bounce off the forcefield. Alai gaped, and Cyren took up his microphone.

"Young Dinny, for accuracy."

The mole scurried to and fro, and adjusting his catapult slightly, he then again deposited a boulder, and stopped bewildered.

"Whoi dearie me, what do Oi be's h'a shooting h'at?"

"Tsarmina."

A yowl of rage echoed in the stage room as Dinny again adjusted the catapult, and then finally, satisfied, he pushed on the lever once again. The boulder soared, and then stopped in mid-flight as it crashed, and demolished the flimsy figure of Tsarmina. Another painfully loud howl of rage was heard, and quite a lot of woodlanders, and vermin in the crowd cheered – such as Gonff, Log-a-log, all of the woodlanders from Corim, and practically all the vermin soldiers from Kotir. Tsarmina, from the crowd, screamed in rage, and was actually in midair, about to pounce on Skipper of otters when she realized she had jumped out of the forcefield, and was perfectly vulnerable to flying bricks. She was soon squashed back into the forcefield by a rather moldy sandstone block, and received quite a painful blow. Meowing discontentedly, she sat in her seat once again, scowling.

"Mah word, Ah 'ave nae pity f'r ye, Tsarmina. Guid shot, Din, go fer pow'r this time! Shoot tha' mangy pusscat's castle t' pieces! Aye, tha's the way!"

A boulder, expectantly flew into the air, and when it joined dust particles with the crumbling form of Kotir, not boom nor bang could explain the sound that was heard. Then, as the structure began to topple, Alai was too excited to click the time-freeze, button, so hopping quickly to the button, Cyren felt beads of sweat forming under his feathers as a brick started flying towards him. Desperately clicking the button, time froze, repairs were made, Kotir was taken out of the stage room, and the stage looked perfectly normal once again.

Dinny cheered and danced as he shuffled gaily offstage, with the blank stare of the audience following him. Alai coughed roughly and began speaking.

"Eh'm. Din bae gettin'10 f'r dist'nce, 9 f'r accurissy, h'and h'a 9 f'r pow'r! Tha' aviridges h'out h'at a luverly 9.3 – estermated would equal h'a bloomin' 9.5'er!"

"Yes yes, we know already. Next up is our final long-range contestant, Grath Trueflight. Please come up." Cyren beckoned to a tall otter backstage, holding a bow and a quiver of splendidly made arrows.

"Grath, for distance."

Solemn-faced, the archer notched a green-brown feathered arrow on her taut bowstring, and pulled hard backwards, until the razor-sharp tip lay right beside the pressurized bow. Aiming the slightest bit upward, Grath let go, and the arrow zipped forward, sending bright red, yellow, green, and blue fireworks emerging magically from the 'ordinary' looking feathers. The arrow thudded into the opposite wall, still releasing brightly colored flames. Gasping in awe, surprise, and laughable astonishment, the otter grinned, and notched another arrow. The bright blue streaks on the feather contrasted lightly with the grey narks, and Grath squinted as she pawed the string and pulled back.

"Grath, this time for accuracy."

A shrew misted out of nowhere, and placed a paper target beside the arrow embedded in the wall. Smiling, Grath released her hold on her grey-blue feathered arrow. It again zipped through the air, this time releasing fireworks in a beautiful pattern which seemed to linger in the air. The brief picture of rolling waves at the ocean was taken in by the watchers, and astounded clapping followed as the arrowpoint struck true, having homed in on the exact center of the target.

"Grath, lastly for power."

The original talc boulder appeared out of nowhere, as Grath strung a golden-scarlet feathered arrow onto her bow. Then, showing off temporarily the thin and narrow point, the expert archer sent the arrow flying through the air. Following the arrow were bright golden and dark scarlet flames, arranging themselves to form a might flying eagle. The arrow slipped into the boulder, without a sound. Again, the shrew misted from nowhere, and looking at the boulder, he held up a ring. A golden ring. Vilu Daskar shouted.

"The master ring. Give it to me. I must be the lord of the rings."

"No way! I'm Frodo, and I'm afraid of nothing!"

Then, the shrew disappeared, once again. Alai sneezed, and glared at Cyren for him to keep speaking.

"Ahem. Grath scored 10 for distance, 10 for accuracy, and 9 for power. It averages out as 9.6. That rounds to 9.5."

"Sae, tha' bae all f'r t'day. T' tell ye th' ord'r o' who won, this bae it. From los'rs tae winn'rs – Mart'n, Blagg't, Sist'r May, Dotti, Gingiveyere, Tirya, Dinny, Lady Amb'r, Romsca, Grath."

"Thank you for watching- we will try to be back soon. Sadly, we will have no more random chapters made as we wait for opinions from you. So how it works is that if you vote for someone, they will switch ranks with the person in front of them. So, if I voted for Romsca, she would switch places with Grath. Got it? Good."


End file.
